Okay, bear with me.  I don’t often speak in metaphors, or similes or whatever you call them, but I had a moment the other day.

I was driving down a street near where I live.  It was a block of row houses with very small front yards and a sidewalk in front of the homes.  It’s a very walkable area, not just for residents from the block but for dog owners and people going to nearby restaurants.   One of the block’s homeowners was replacing the sidewalk pavement.  I could clearly see this as I drove by because every piece of porch and outdoor furniture available seemed to be propped around the drying cement.  The owner clearly wanted to keep people off  of it.  Completely understandable.

Having gone to great expense to replace the sidewalk,  he/she didn’t want some random person to come along and write his name in the cement.  Because if someone did that, then the owner would be stuck with it.  Clearly, the homeowner wanted a fresh start.

It got  me to thinking, am I guarding my heart like the homeowner guarded his/her new cement sidewalk?  And I trying to keep someone from coming and leaving their mark before it’s had a chance to harden?

Well, if I am, that’s okay.   Everybody deserves a fresh new start.   I don’t want someone else to mold me, write on me, make permanent markings on my facade.  I’m still in the midst of fixing what had crumbled.  I’m working on it.

In truth, I’m not really keeping people out, I’m preparing to let someone in.  If I’m permitted the luxury of guarding  my brand new concrete heart until it heals and hardens, then it will be open to someone coming by for a visit.  It’ll be smooth and pretty and, yes — inviting.  Moreover, it’ll be safe for visitors, who can come to my home without tripping and falling on the rubble of what happened before (and then suing me for their pain and suffering).

So yeah, like the homeowner, I’ll go to great lengths to protect my concrete heart, until I’m/it’s ready .

So keep off.

Actually, in the biz they call it “curing”  —-  concrete doesn’t harden, it “cures.”  I like the sound of that.  When my concrete heart has/is completely cured, I’ll move the blockade and invite someone to my porch for lemonade.  The pathway to me will look good, it’ll be safe, and . . .  I will have complied with Township Ordinances . . . but I digress.

Just Me With . . . my curing concrete heart.

Post script:  I went back later to try to snap a picture, but the barriers had been removed and I’m not even sure which house it was.