The Parable of a Floor

The floor lay beneath Berber carpet for years–maybe fifteen, maybe twenty. I am sure it was pretty when it was new.

When the carpet came up the floor was exposed, rough with bits of carpet underlay and glue. I sanded off the glue and bits of carpet. We all pried up staples.

Other jobs intervened–xeriscape, painting, and my husband’s amazing carpentry.

I spent this weekend scraping the floor, staining it, and then applying the first layer of polyurethane.

It felt like archeology–the floor went from bare wood to rich beauty. It is now my favorite floor in the house–every detail, every sign of age has taken on a rich patina of grace.

Real. It is real and because it is real it is lovely. You can imitate real, you can buy it for a price, but when it is a transformation you are allowed to participate in, the picture stays with you–a beautiful history.

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