patching dents

and the stories the walls would tell

He was a bit embarrassed as he showed me around.

We renovated when we moved in. The kids were smaller then. Every time they made a dent with a ball or chipped some plaster with a mini stick, I told myself that I’d get to it.

He shook his head and gestured around the room.

This is where they played when they were young.

The room contained a couple of guitars, amps, some cables and games and a very large television screen.

They still play here. It’s just different.

He ran his hand over a dent in the wall.

This was caused by one of the boys heads when they were wrestling.

As a handyman, these details don’t really matter to me. I’m there to fill in the dents and patch the holes.

But each mark on the wall had a story to this guy.

I wanted to fix these things, I just haven’t had the time. Now? We’re moving. It’s time to get the place ready for someone else.

He continued on to with excitement about where his boys were heading, what they were doing and the big plans that he and his wife made for their …