The sound of a hammer rang out in the morning air. I was walking out the front door, watering can in hand; but stopped in my tracks savoring a once familiar sound.
On a street
- where beer cans, snack wrappers, and paper litter the grass beside the street;
- where houses slowly decay;
- where lids of overstuffed mailboxes hang open;
- where men idle away daytime hours sitting and talking;
- where we celebrate yard maintenance;
it is there I realize the promise that rings out with the pounding of a hammer.
I’m flooded with memories of
a new house rising from an empty hilltop,
and little boys learning to build furniture.
I think of
dreams, progress, hopes, newness, learning, growth, promise, building, purpose.
For a moment, I pause and savor. Promise. Hope. Maybe there is more to come.