A Big Work in Sienna

People who believe in the Bible often invoke the acts of their lord and savior when they do good deeds. They believe that because Jesus and friends did nice things for people in the stories in that book, that they, too, should do good deeds. They also say that when you help someone out, you shouldn't tell the whole world about it. And it isn't as though I'm a Christian and so am bringing this up. It is more that I believe that, too. Not because the men who wrote the Bible said so, though. It just feels right. Deep down in me, somewhere in the place where my Mama put all the consideration of others and my Daddy put all the consideration of the soil, it's there. To shut up about it when you help your friends. But not this time.

Yesterday, my friend had me and another friend come over to help paint her living room. It is a new day and I am still here. When I signed up, they were going to be the labor and I was going to be the comic relief. Because I'm good at that. On painting, I couldn't say, having no real memory on which I could form an accurate telling of my wall painting skills. Also, when I signed up, there was one wall to be painted. We have ended with three. And there's the ceiling to be re-painted white. And the base boards have spots on them that have to be whited. And two of the strings on the blinds. But all that doesn't matter. I decided to participate. And it turns out that I am a really good wall painter. My walls are all even and solid. I took great care. I really wanted to do a nice job. I'm not really one for working with my hands. Or sweating. I'm more...the delegator.

This was fun, though. Because we ran out of paint last night and, try as my friend did to find one, there is no such thing as a 24 hr Home Depot, we spent the night to help finish the work we started. Just like I tell my Montessori students to do at my place of work. When I woke up this morning, on the futon in the dining room, and rolled over to look into the living room, all I could do was smile. The walls are now burnt sienna. They're glorious. It's something I couldn't see when I fell asleep. It was dark out. They hadn't dried. I was tired and a little annoyed about not getting to choose the mood music. But when I woke up today, with the addition of sunlight, I was so proud of my work that you'd think her apartment was a Habitat house. I was full. Really full.

There's something to be said for that feeling you feel at the end of a Big Work. You're required to stand back and it's permissible to admire what you have achieved. I keep going back to the spaces of wall I painted all by myself and marveling at how they were blank a day ago. They used to say nothing. Now they say "I know you ain't talking to me, bitch!" Because they have serious attitude, these walls.

Imagine. She was going to paint them blue or green. Blue and green ain't got shit on burnt sienna.

I feel like I can do all kinds of things, now. Like plant flowers. Put up curtains. Buy a book case. Maybe I'd stay at home every once in awhile if I ever did anything to fix up my own apartment.