As she looked up at me

There was a lot of snow on the roof last Saturday and we knew that the thaw was coming. We have had a bit of water staining on the ceiling in our bedroom (not a lot and it looks like it is just about over) but I knew that I needed to get up to the upper roof for some maintenance. After banging on the ice dam with a hammer and failing to make much progress on it I decided to do what I could and shovel the snow off of the top roof. I was already up there after all. Well, when I got to the back roof and began to clear the snow off I noticed that much too much water had been pooling beneath a layer of ice and I knew that it needed to go. And I needed her to help. And that is when it became much more than just a chore.

I needed to carve a channel into the ice dam down to the roof itself and I needed buckets of hot water (close to 10 I thought) to get the job done. I had a hammer, shop vac, and shovel to help but, most importantly, I had her. She agreed to haul the buckets of water from the laundry room to the front of the house where I pulled them up (don't ask how...) to get them to the upper roof to carve the channel.

And, as she looked up at me and I looked down at her I realized something. This channel we carved that day, this small dent we made in the world, held significance beyond the water that eventually found its way through it because she was there. 

With me. Together. We strained and laughed. Fretted and planned. "One more bucket, Honey, and I think we'll have it...no...maybe not...maybe one more..." 

And as she looked up at me and I looked down at her I found that this struggle, this dance, this embrace, knit my heart ever more finely to hers as she kissed this frigid world with me. 

And held my hand.

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