So, when my
beloved sidled up to me and whispered, "I've got the perfect place where
we can go to be alone!” I knew better than to start envisioning candle lit
restaurants or moonlight cruises. The
fact that he was wearing dirt smeared jeans and a sweat soaked tee shirt were
also the kind of subtle little clues a tuned-in woman picks up on.
But, a day of
dispensing wisdom like a Solomon ("If you two don't stop that fighting, I
swear I'll just throw the darn game away!"), prophesies like Jeanne Dixon
(I know a little boy who's going to be taking a nap if he doesn't cut it out!),
interpreting the law like a Supreme Court Justice (When I said no more sweets I
was NOT referring to the sweet potatoes I made for supper!) and some denying of
some civil rights (I don’t care – JUST DO IT!), wasn't all that appealing
either. So, I bit.
The next thing I
knew I, too, was clad in baggy jeans (O.K. so they weren't baggy - what is
after 5 pregnancies?) and an old shirt, but now the ensemble included a
carpenter's pouch loaded with nails, hammers and assorted other tools that I
couldn't identify, and I was searching the sky for my darling partner.
I spotted my
beloved's face peering out over the edge of the roof. "Come on up!" he called. My terror of heights took over and I could
only manage a strangling sound in reply.
So, ever helpful, my love came down and coaxed me up the ladder; an
interesting procedure that involved half-carrying, half pushing me while
simultaneously steadying the ladder. Our
children - at least the ones not rolling around on the ground shrieking with
laughter and dragging the neighbors in for a look - were busy taping the goings
on for "America's Funniest Home Videos".
Aware of my fears, my thoughtful companion had prepared an area
directly in the center of the roof for me to sit until I got my bearings. First,
I had to get there. Have you ever tried
crawling, belly plastered to rough shingles, while dragging a twenty-five-pound
pouch up an incline? As I was inching my
way across the roof (praying with all the sincerity and feeling I could
muster), Mr. This-Ain't-So-High was extolling the view. "Hey" he said, "Doesn't the
van look like a toy car from up here?
Even the trees look fake!"
"If you think I'm going to look down..." I started to mutter,
but the shingle I was clutching for security let loose and I decided to scream
instead. I didn't move or anything, but
he came and checked on me anyway. I was
grateful.
He showed me how
to lay down the 'caps' over the edges of the shingles and where to pound the
nails. He gave me helpful hints for
sitting more comfortably, and without even knowing it he gave me some of his
confidence and bravery.
I always stayed
well away from the edges of the roof, but I did manage to relax a bit. And I even looked down at the view. As we worked and talked - about the budding
trees and the blooming flowers and the areas of the yard that we could see
needed some work I also began to realize that maybe he was right to begin
with. While the kids had managed to
interrupt us now and again - mostly with pleas to come up and walk around - and
it certainly wasn't perfect, we did have a chance to be alone for a while. It wasn't exactly Paris in the Springtime,
but it probably didn't matter anyway (as a matter of fact I can almost
guarantee it. I know us - standing there,
hand in hand the gorgeous hunk I committed to and me, we'd be gazing up at the
Eiffel Tower - He'd be thinking "How do you suppose they constructed that
thing?" and I'd be thinking, "I wonder if they have bathrooms in
there?" - Ah romance!)
And, later that evening, as we were cleaning up and
sharing aspirin and feelings about the day, my
beloved said to me, "You
know, having you come up there and help me finish what would have been
a long,
lonely job to do by myself, makes me love you even more."
Maybe it ain't
violins by candlelight, but it sure was music to my ears!
:)
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