Shoveling snow

I was planning on hopping on the treadmill for a little bit of unpleasant exercise, but then I thought, “Wait a minute, Missy.  There is an entire walkway and driveway that the skies dropped another foot of snow on that needs shoveling.  What better way to exercise?“ 

Well, to be honest, I could think of a million better ways to exercise, but being noble won out.

I sighed rather sadly and stripped off my runners. 

“What’s wrong, Mom?“ Will asked.

“I’ve decided to shovel the drive.“

“Need some help?“ he said.  There wasn’t a ton of enthusiasm in his voice, but I leapt on his offer like a rabid dog.

“Oh honey, that would be wonderful!“ 

And the weird thing is… It was. 

We shoveled the whole thing, while Don was pecking away at his typewriter and Emily and David slept. 

And we have a BIG driveway! 

It was hard work, our faces were pretty red and sweaty by the time we finished, and even now, typing to you, I can feel the fatigue in my shoulders, backs, legs and forearms.  That snow was deep and this is the third time in the last week that the drive and walkway have had to be shoveled. 

It was hard, but there was something really bonding about it too.  The two of us slogging away, grunting as we hoisted the huge mounds of snow, up and away. 

Okay, maybe that last sentence wasn’t quite accurate.  I was grunting.  Will wasn’t.

I don’t know what it is about getting older, but I find I make more noise doing things that when I was younger didn’t even cause me to have a change in breath.  Getting out of a low-slung car for instance, or shoveling snow, or bending over.  A little “oof” noise escapes, or a “uhngh” noise.  It’s kind of funny.  It makes me feel like I’m turning into a little old lady.

It’s a good thing I find it funny, because my body is at the age, were not making a little grunt or groan, would require serious concentration, and even then, I’d probably slip up.

Anyway, I was proud of my boy, offering to help.  Doing it with such good humor.  Because physical labor is not Will’s idea of a good time.  I felt like he was giving back, helping out, was taking care of me, even though I could have done it on my own.  Or Don could have finished up the job when he was done with his pages. 

I was proud of Will, shoveling snow, the dark clouds parting, him tall, grey cap perched on his head, black medium length jacket, behind the opening in the sky there was this amazing pure robin’s egg blue.  The two of us, hoisting mounds of soft white pristine snow, endless shovelfuls.  And I was tired, and sore, but my heart was so glad to be there with him, that I was almost sorry when we reached the end of the drive.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Monday, December 22, 2008 in Chewing the Fat