Every morning I sit here and watch. I used to be annoyed by that construction crane. It marred the view, a little too new for what I wanted to see.
But now it almost makes me cry. I remember when the house was a rubble of bricks. It was open on top. Zero defense from the rain. I've watched them add the roof. Fit the panels. Drill the sides and smooth out the edges. I can tell, by how the men are dressed, if it's extra cold outside or suddenly surprisingly warm. When it's quiet, I know they're off for lunch. I've met the dog that keeps guard at night. Maybe one day, I'll know who lives inside.