I built this wooden deck.
From the foundations upwards. On my own.
Spade by spade, screw by screw, measurement by measurement.
I built this deck. With Norwegian wood – in the Norwegian rain. While my mind wandered – to places rarely visited. With birds singing their summer songs, and a black river flowing close by.
It may not be perfect – perhaps a true craftsman will find many a fault.
But I built it. With office hands and untrained body.
This deck symbolizes a journey – to places rarely visited.
And visits to people – special people. Some who have passed on.
Yes – far away. Very far away. Up north – way past the equator.
There is this deck that I’ve built.
In winter it will be covered in thick snow. For months.
But when the spring comes to the Valdres Valley – in Norway – the snow will melt again.
And expose my deck.
Expose what I have left behind.
A piece of me.
