Shouldn't…but Do

Same snow, different day.

It is back.  The plow wall.  Two feet high, three feet wide, frozen road slush slung up around a neighborhood corner and slammed across my driveway, blocking access to car and mail carrier alike.  Snow blower won’t touch it.

Offspring at school, the plow wall is left to me.  It is not going anywhere, and apparently, neither am I.

Cut, clean, quick.  Hurled over my shoulder, snow fort fodder.   I will pay for it in pain tomorrow, but not today.

The unreasonable pile of stuff that usually gives me breathless pause – worked, attacked – shovel by shovel.  Save the grief, it is done.  Cleared.

Make room for what is coming through.