It wasn’t a huge deal, the damaged deck, but it was a deal, and it shouldn’t have happened
There’s something about the country.
Even before I got out of the car, I could feel it. Nechami was breathing deeply, eyes half-closed and a smile playing on her lips. The kids, of course, were clambering over each other to get out of the car, eager to run free in the grass, see their friends again, and live the glorious country life again for two whole months.
I start to unload the car, parking various suitcases and packages beside the wraparound deck of our bungalow. Then I notice the part of the railing where the wood was splintered and partially broken. I frowned. How had I forgotten to take care of that before we left last year? It didn’t look nice, and it wasn’t particularly safe for little kids either.
One thing to mar the perfection of the moment, apparently. And we’d had the deck built new last year, too.
I sighed. It wasn’t a huge deal, the damaged deck, but it was a deal, and it shouldn’t have happened. It wouldn’t have, if not for the kids who rode golf carts like they were scooters, like they were kiddie toys instead of a vehicle that had to be handled responsibly.
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