my life as a wall
by lisa horak

Walls. They are supposed to be strong and sturdy, capable of supporting an entire house. But if you have ever torn one down or damaged one unintentionally, you know that they are not as solid and indestructible as they appear.

Walls are often just sheet rock, layers of soft gypsum that harden and are covered with paper. These walls deceive us. In reality, they serve little structural value. It is the framing, the studs, the wooden beams that hold up a house.

While recently redecorating my kitchen I realized that we are very much like these walls—stronger in external appearance than in actuality. To the outside observer who sees only the external façade, we often appear sturdy and resilient. But like walls, it doesn’t take much to poke through and see the exposed weaknesses of which we are not proud.

Let me go back to our kitchen. It is large and sunny, but had the misfortune of being saddled with really ugly wallpaper—a drab print of tiny pink and blue flowers that that blurred in front of my eyes like the beginning of a migraine headache. Since we moved here I have known that the kitchen needed a makeover, but I didn’t know what would complement our oak cabinets and light-colored linoleum floor. For months I pondered the options.

The kitchen, after all, is the nexus of our world. It is quite possibly the room we spend the most time in. It is our gathering place, where meals are cooked and shared, homework is done, and cookies are baked. So I really wanted a space I liked.

Now my husband Mike, who truly believes he has no strong opinions on decorating, vetoed my suggestions, mostly because he dreaded yet another project that would be way more work than I originally thought. When Mike’s parents came at Christmas time, they generously offered to help us tackle this project. Heck, you can’t argue with free labor. The more hands the better, especially with two small kids underfoot.

So we looked at wallpaper and we pored over paint colors. Although we considered some really bold colors, I decided that I’m just not the bold type. Nope, no crimson for me. We opted instead for two wonderfully named colors of paint: Rejuvenate (a sage green) and Song of Summer (pale yellow). We also found a cheery wallpaper border with sunflowers—a jumble of yellows and greens against a cobalt blue background.

I suppose I was as drawn to those lovely names—Rejuvenate and Song of Summer—as to their actual colors, but when I got home I realized how much I had that would coordinate with this gentle and soothing palate. I guess I’m pretty consistent in my tastes.

With the colors chosen, it was time for the real work to begin. Painting is funny. It takes so much time to prepare, and so little time to actually put the paint on the walls, which is of course the only satisfying step in the whole process.

So, first we stripped the wallpaper. We used this little round gizmo with little blades attached to it to “score” the walls, making little holes so that liquid wallpaper remover would penetrate under the wallpaper, in theory making it easier to remove. Hah! No such luck. We just had to soak the walls and use our putty knives to peel and scrape, bit by bit, the layers of glue and wallpaper. Somehow, however, to add to our misery, we realized we were scraping away not only the glue but layers of the actual sheet rock.

By the time the wallpaper was stripped, the walls were a mess and so was I. I knew this job would be hard but I was feeling discouraged and defensive and guilty. What had I gotten us into? Man, what a lousy way to spend our holiday.

But once you start a project like this you have to keep going. Next step: repairing the walls and then sanding them down. And finally prepping the walls with roll after roll of masking tape, which really shouldn’t have been contentious, but was. Mike, you see, is meticulous; others in the family were not.

At last it was time to paint, to with the stroke of a brush and a swipe of a roller magically and instantly transform a room. Yes, the promise of a better, brighter kitchen was within my grasp.

After the first coat of Rejuvenate was on I stepped back to survey our progress. The walls looked terrible. I could see giant circles of dotted lines left by that darn scoring tool. The walls were uneven where they had been quickly sanded. Even after a second coat, the imperfections were still there, obvious to my critical eyes.

It turns out we had skipped a crucial step—skimcoating a layer of sheet rock mud over the walls. We didn’t think we needed to do that. We naively believed that with enough paint the flaws wouldn’t show.

Yes, we are indeed a lot like these walls. Our need for periodic change is fundamental. It might be a new job or even a new haircut. We can reinvent ourselves, to varying degrees, but we are can’t truly change who we are. Regardless of what is on the outside (paint or wallpaper) it is what is underneath that matters most (the actual solid foundation of a house.)

When the kitchen was finished it looked bigger and brighter and was a much more pleasant space. Mike admitted that it looked great. And as for me? I like it, even though it isn’t perfect. Even if no one else scrutinizes the walls, I’ll always know the flaws are there. I’ll wonder if the border looks too busy. I’ll wonder if our kitchen looks somehow shabby compared to sophisticated terra cotta, faux-finished kitchens with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances.

It is easy to assume all walls are strong. But walls can crumble, like people can, under too much stress or too great expectations. During our week of renovation we all showed our flaws. There were arguments about control, about technique, and about trust in a vision. When stripped right down, like the messy layers of wallpaper and glue and sheet rock, we are all flawed and imperfect. When we cut corners, we suffer. We regret. We vow to do better next time. In the meantime we need to be lovingly repaired, our very foundations nurtured and built back up so we can stand strong and proud amid the rest of the world.

Lisa Horak lives in south Asheville with her husband and two daughters, Molly and Isabel. In her spare time she hikes, volunteers in classrooms, colors with her kids, and dreams of writing children’s books. [ lisa@wnc-woman.com ]