"This is our house, and this is the path, and this is the Blue Pyramids," she told me. "Do you like it?" She asks because she knows what I'll say and she wants to hear it.
"I love it," I said. She's always building something. She takes paper and scissors and constructs animals with tape. She takes markers and draws worlds of people, houses, snakes, worms, and birds. Sometimes there are planes, sometimes the people have babies strapped to their chests.
Today she built with Lego. She built our house, with our garden, and a path, and the Blue Pyramids, a beach shack restaurant nearby.
She builds the things that are around us.
Some people build houses for other people. Right now we have construction going on on our rooftop, where men are building a meditation space for us and people we meet.
I am building a story, and a book, and a body of work. I am building a family, and I am building a home with fresh flowers and tablecloths and curtains.
My husband is building songs from rhythms and notes that come to him, it seems to me out of the blue.
Leafy builds towers, then knocks them down.
Kid A builds Star Wars ships from K'nex.
Sometimes we build sand castles, and then the tide comes and carries them off. We can't build ourselves a wall big enough to keep us safe, but we are always building a community to love and to love us back.
We are all building something.