Rebuilding the steps

It's been an expensive few days. On Monday, I had the driveway apron poured before I would be cited for a trip hazard. There is excitement in getting a fresh new entrance to home, but the experience was dampened by the fact that I just had a new apron laid 4 years ago. The first one failed.

Then today, my bricklaying friend came to rehaul my sidesteps. The top platform had cracked and the steps were tilting toward the house. The new stone is radiant white, and the doorway, finally, looks welcoming again. This experience is less exciting than it would be, as well, because those steps were just rebuilt 4 years ago too. They, also, failed.

So, in the last three days, I paid 2400 dollars to redo work that originally cost me 6400.

Maybe that makes this summer the summer of do-over. The summer of second chances. The time to get it right.

I drove out to Chagrin to get my haircut and just before I rounded the last bend into town, I wondered if I would see Jane's car. I did, seconds later, parked in the RSVP parking lot. And just seeing that green Beetle made my body crimp and fill with such anger. My brain spun to the worst. Cursing Jane, which is really just a curse of Carrie. Cursing the final lie and deceit which outweigh and make suspect -- strangely -- any of the long love. By the time I made it to the salon, I needed my head to be rubbed with expensive Aveda oil.

I do not want to redo Carrie. There is no point in wishing for that. I have no desire to redo anything with someone who was so willing and able to dismiss me. I have no desire to shore up the things I did wrong with her. I have poured new footers. I stand on a different foundation. Nor do I want to widen my heart, knowing how closed it was to the love I was offered. My heart has been split at the ribs and the finest doctors have insured that I can and am glub glubbing my way back to whole.

That building failed. The promise of a Carrie home crumbled. I doubt she knows or cares how much her choice has cost me.

But, here I sit. A fresh driveway to pull up close to my house. A firm set of steps to guide someone inside. The backdoor is on back order at Home Depot. Soon, every way to me will be new. Every way to find me will have been rebuilt and ready for guests.

This is the summer of second chances. This is summer to do again the thing I want to do more than any other thing. Second love. Hinged to what I learned in the first, but so much stronger.