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The Breakup

Note: This is not me breaking up with Jonathon. It’s Valentine’s Day. He’s a keeper.

 

Remember how I wrote about the magical properties of snow, just a few days ago? Remember that? How it was like your high school crush showing up at your door? Yeah. I think I’m over it. The snow continues to melt…slowly. The same insulating quality that makes snow great building material for igloos is the same quality that keeps it from melting, especially when it’s piled high.

Our neighbor called yesterday.

“Susan, did you know when the city plowed the main road, they threw up large berms of snow? They blocked both entrances to our access road.”

No, I didn’t know. Because I couldn’t get out of the driveway.

“Could you call them?” she asked. “I’ve called twice.”

I didn’t want to. I know the guys work around the clock to keep the main arterials safe, then the other roads in order of most used. But I did. I left a message for my old boss. He called right back.

“We’ll get you out of there before you go crazy,” he said.

“Too late,” I said.

He laughed.

And they came out a couple hours later and mowed down one of the egresses.

Now, we needed to do our part. Jonathon carved out a path for us to drive on. I helped a little. The top snow felt light and fluffy. Underneath, it had compacted and become like wet cement. Shoveling snow is not for wimps. Dakota shadowed us, diving into each shovelful as if searching for buried treasure.

Pepper car path.jpg

This morning, I tried throwing a ball to Dakota, staying on the cleared path. She lost it right away. I sighed. Another day without fetching tennis balls. I felt bad for her. We walked the half-plowed access road. The sidelined snow formed bizarre shapes, hardened in the freezing air, impromptu snow sculptures. The asphalt underneath my feet alternated between puddles, crunchy snow and ice. The air glowed, an early dawn reflected off the snow. Dakota trotted ahead of me, mostly sniffing for places to mark. I wondered what animals had braved the cold during the night.

When I came back inside, a voicemail greeted me. Must have been left yesterday.

“Susan, you rock! Look, they came down and did the lane! You are the hero for the day.” The neighbor said in her message.

She made me laugh. But we all know who the real heroes are. And they don’t need capes.

 

 

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