Facebook “Memories” reminded me, this morning, as my husband worked on staining and sealing some of the last bits of sanded flooring, that eight years ago today, we were celebrating, in our Arizona house, the installation of our new “wood” (laminate) flooring.

How happy we were to be rid of the ancient carpet.

To put distance between the old and welcome the new.

To hire it done and move on.

I wonder how we have found ourselves here again.

Eight years later.

Still excited over wood floors.

Excited this time to bid farewell to the new and welcome back the old.

Touch what hasn’t been touched in decades.

I smile at how we would never dream of “hiring it done” and moving on.

Not this time.

This time the work is an honor.

This time we feel a connection.

This time we are creating a legacy.

This time, we are devolving and returning to a more basic version of ourselves, along with the house.

This time bodies ache. Are stained and gritty and tired and frustrated. And at the same time humbled and satisfied.

This time we wouldn’t have it any other way.