The last weekend I was out early in the morning, strolling along the neighborhood before getting too hot and I saw how different some houses looked a year ago. The same streets, the same trees, the same quiet mornings, but a couple of driveways and fences looked in some way lightened, maybe they were just reset. It caused me to consider the amount of accumulation we become conscious of in the process of time. Dirt, pollen, stains - they creep gradually, and, at length, they are simply incorporated into the scenery.
I recall the time when the place occupied by my parents began to wear out, although there was nothing that went wrong in it. Siding was all right, and the porch was concrete, but all seemed weary. Some neighbor was talking about power washing the woodlands almost as though it was nothing important. A week afterward the house had the look that it was taking a deep breath. No remodeling, no monumental expenditure, and nothing but sweeping away what had been years growing up.
I was reminded most of all by the visual change itself rather than the way it altered our attitude towards the space. We sat outside more. People lingered more when they made stops. It also made me remember that maintenance is not necessarily about repairing what is broken, but sometimes it is about cleaning up the clutter to enable you to actually appreciate what is already out there.
I believe it is not restricted to houses. Relationships, routines, even cars, gather dust. We do not always notice until something little gets the surface back to track. Those silent improvements are easy to undervalue since they do not make announcements.
Recently I have been much more attentive to these little changes, and the things that do not achieve instant notice but help to make day to day living a little less heavy. I wonder how we would feel about many things around us had we just taken time to take a closer look at them.
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