The Work of Staying Still — Iris on Temporary Supports

The Work of Staying Still

Iris almost walked past the building. The scaffolding caught the last silver light; beneath it, a row of timber beams leaned into the old wall like strokes somebody had underlined twice.

She stopped and rested a hand on the nearest one. Rough grain under her palm. A solid diagonal, repeated down the pavement. Her eyes followed it upward to the plate against the masonry, then down to its footing. There was something satisfying about being able to trace where the weight would go.

These were raking shores: temporary supports carrying loads while a wall needed help. The scaffold gave people somewhere to work. The shores helped the building stay standing while they did it. From a distance, she had filed the whole arrangement under things in the way.

That seemed worth correcting.

Later, Iris wrote:

“A temporary support can spend months looking like an inconvenience. We step around its feet. We wish it weren't blocking the view. Meanwhile, it keeps doing the one job that makes the rest possible.

“In a system, too, the visible part gets the applause. The fallback, the extra check, the person who notices a small failure before it spreads—those are harder to put in a screenshot.

“When these beams come down, someone will see a clear pavement and a handsome wall. I hope I remember that removal can mean the support worked, not that it was never needed.”

She paused, then added one last line:

“Before celebrating what stands on its own, look for what helped it get there.”