KACE. Although the changes I have seen in Shane aren’t what most people would look at as significant, I know better. Shane needed very little in my eyes to be a perfect man, and he was sure headed in the right direction with the few changes he had made in his life. No one asked him to change, and I don’t even know if he realizes all of the little things he was doing differently. It really doesn’t matter to me, what’s important is that he is doing well, and his devotion is in the right place.

Nothing matters more than family and friends to Shane, and for the rest of his life that should never have to change. The amounts of money we have available now make either of us ever needing to work a thing of the past. Financially security has allowed Shane to let loose a little with his spending, and he’s not quite as frugal as he used to be. He bought a truck, a new tire for his motorcycle, and three plots of land in an affluent neighborhood on the north side of Austin.

He said he didn’t want any neighbors, so he purchased a lot for us to build a house on, and bought the lots on either side of ours. This way, according to Shane, we never have to worry about having shitty neighbors. Considering the neighborhood, I doubt this would ever be the case. The thought of a contractor building a house just for us is very exciting to me. Shane let me help draw my ideas onto paper and forced the architect to include my ideas into the building plans.

One problem with Shane is he now has a considerable amount of free time on his hands, and he’s at the construction site every day checking on the contractor. Today is Sunday, and although I am sure the contractor isn’t working, I know this is where I’ll find Shane.

As I pulled into the lot, the site looked the same as it did earlier in the week. A concrete slab and a wooded house frame you can look right through. Three more months is when they say they’re going to be done, and to be quite honest, I have no idea if I can wait that long. The entire thought of it has me beside myself.

“This is going to be our new house,” I said to Casey as I pulled him from his car seat.

As I carried him through what would one day be our yard, I saw Shane in the back yard with a shovel. Wondering what he might be doing, I wandered around the house and into the rear portion of the lot.

“What are you doing, doofus?” I hollered across the yard.

He turned and looked over his shoulder, “Digging a hole.”

“I figured so, seeing the shovel and all. What are you doing Shane?” I asked.

“Burying some stuff.”

“What are you burying, Shane?”

“Dog tags and some boots.”

“You’re burying your dog tags?”

“Yep.”

I stood and thought for a moment before I responded.

“Do you think that’s a good idea,” I asked.

“Actually, yes,” he responded as he stepped on the shovel.

“Okay. Want to talk about it?” I asked.

He turned to face me and smiled, “Sure.”

He tossed the shovel full of dirt to the side, and stepped on the shovel again. As he did, I noticed he was wearing his new boots again. His old boots sat on the ground beside where he stood.

Okay this could be either really good or really bad.

“Shane,” I hesitated and pointed to his boots.

“You burying those too?” I asked.

“Yep,” he responded.

“Let’s hear it,” I said as I adjusted Casey’s weight on my arm.

Shane released the shovel handle and reached for Casey. As he took him into his arms, he smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

“Well, I’ve carried those things for some time now, always thinking they’re in some way significant. Truth of the matter is this, they’re really not. Well, they are – but they’re not. What I thought they were and what they actually are is two totally different things. I’ve come to terms with the fact that my father was not a perfect man,” he held Casey over his head and began to toss him in the air a few inches from his grasp, catching him under his armpits as he fell.

As I watched Shane toss Casey in the air repeatedly, I waited for more of an explanation, knowing Shane would provide it.

“Kace, I’m not perfect either. My father made mistakes. I’ve made mistakes. Even though the mistakes we made aren’t the same, they really are. He beat my mother physically, I beat you mentally,” he paused and held Casey to his chest.

“Shane we agreed we aren’t going to…”

“Let me finish, it’s okay,” he smiled.

I smiled.

“For me to think for one minute that my father is or was a bad person and I am any better is to say I have never made a mistake. Well, I have. I’ve made a lot of them. Fact of the matter is this, Kace. I’ve carried those dog tags to remind me what a no good son-of-a-bitch he was. That’s not necessarily true. So, I’m going to bury them right here. In what I hope will be our back yard for the remainder of our lives. And I’m putting the boots he got me here too,” he said as he nodded toward the boots.

“He got you those raggedy boots?” I asked.

He nodded, “They weren’t always raggedy. They’re old.”

And it began to make sense. Shane wore the dog tags and the boots, feeling as if it provided him something in his fighting – an edge so to speak. Maybe it did. But if I was going to guess now, I’d guess it provided him enough anger toward who he believed his father was to fuel him in his fights.

“So?”

“Well, I’ll never know for sure just what I got out of these, but I know this. Today, I can accept the fact that my father was who he was. He was a damned good Marine and he died defending this country. He may not have been the father I wanted him to be, but he wasn’t necessarily bad. So, I’ve accepted him for who he is, and I want to bury who I believed him to be. Get a fresh start, so to speak,” he smiled and began to toss Casey in the air again.

“You sure?” I asked.

“Yep,” he responded as he handed Casey to me.

“Shane?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“I love you.”

“I love you babe.”

“You want us to go? Leave you alone to do this?”

“Nope. Just hold on, it’ll only take a minute.”

I stood and watched as Shane took a few more scoops of dirt and tossed them aside. After sticking the shovel in the ground beside the hole, he bent down beside the boots. Carefully he dropped the dog tags into one of the boots. He hesitated, and then began to use his hands to fill the boots with the dirt from the hole. When the boots were full, he laid them in the hole carefully and stood up. After shoveling most of the remaining dirt into the hole, He stepped on the surface of the ground and made it flat again.

A small pile of dirt remained on the side.

“You know, you never can get all of the dirt back into the hole after you bury something,” he smiled as he grabbed the handle of the shovel.

I shook my head, “Nope. Because of what’s in there. It takes up space.”

“That it does, Kace. That it does.” He said as he flipped the shovel over his shoulder.

Whatever we eventually bury was at some point in time an important part of our life. We bury it out of respect.

If it were garbage, we’d simply toss it aside.

Maybe the left over soil is a reminder of the space it once took up in our heart or in our life.

As we walked to our vehicles, I turned toward our stick home and admired the progress the workers had made.

Progress.

Progress is good.