99 Words for 99 Days: June 26

26. Headboard

Through the open window I can hear the sound of a power sander sanding something in the garage. I leave my apron on. I leave the house. I walk through the curtain of tiny silver raindrops, across the grass, across the gravel, under the walnut tree. The dog stands up to say hello. “What are you doing?” I ask the man. “Which color do you like?” he asks me. He has started to test stains on the headboard he found in an attic, the headboard his great-grandfather built. I choose the darker stain. We have yellow walls.

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