I love a good romance.
The gut wrenching, snot producing kind.
The ones that haunt you years after you’ve seen them……..so you watch them again, and again……
You know the ones. They make you FEEL.
I’ve been feeling plenty the past few days.
Jase and I are snowed in. Buried on the side of a mountain under 30 inches of snow. The man who plows is OUT OF TOWN. We live in a small community that is not part of the “city”. We are on our own up here.
Thanksgiving is tomorrow. My 3rd son Archie flies in tonight. And this my friends is what our refrigerator looks like:
Clean as a fucking whistle.
I had to cancel our grocery order (I’m sick remember) because there’s no way to get all the food up here.
Jase. Romantic Jase.
He is in town as I type. He romanced the snow and got my truck the 2 miles to the bottom of the mountain. Downhill is the do~able part.
He is at the grocery store with a back pack purchasing simple items that he is going to HIKE BACK UP TO THE HOUSE. The truck won’t make it back. The families in our community are all parked at the bottom of the mountain. Everyone has to hike to and fro.
Later, he’s going to hike his gorgeous 6 foot 3 body back down the mountain and drive an hour to the airport to retrieve my son. Then he’s going to hike back up with Archie, carrying Archie’s luggage.
This is a romance film I won’t forget.
I don’t want to watch it ever again, but I’ll never forget it.
I’m on the sidelines being frustrated as hell with my body.
The healthy me would be hiking back up and down this mountain, showing it who’s boss. I would be hiking with my son, creating holiday memories to laugh about in the years to come.
Instead I will whip him up the most badass peanut butter and honey thanksgiving sandwich he’s ever sunk his teeth into. And I’ll serve it with gratitude, a smile and a giant hug.
I feel hurt by the client who’s house I was supposed to clean today. She’s hosting 20 in her brand-new mansion. Her floors wont’ be clean and she’s pissed. She thinks I still live in my previous location, not remembering I moved to the mountain 6 months ago. I received a long text stating she will have to find someone else to do her floors etc….later another text saying her husband, bless this man, reminded her of where I now live and he’d be happy to do the floors. No apology. I think I still have a job.
I feel like an object, an afterthought.
My pain is real……hers is just as real…….pain is pain.
You’ve got a man romancing the snow for you……..now that I think about it maybe I should have rent him out to scrub floors for the holiday’s. We could turn this into a real Cinderella story.