Signs of Growth
Saturday afternoon when the men paraded out the door, a beautiful sound rose up from the hush they left behind: January thaw.
I heard snow settle, water trickle . . . and the clomp clomp clomp of three pairs of feet on my roof.
This is what kids in South Dakota do for fun.
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In these parts, it’s not uncommon to stop by your neighbor’s garage to borrow his roof rake, an actual tool. Shoveling snow off your roof helps avoid a call to your insurance company to report a claim of roof collapse due to a peril known as “weight of ice and snow.”
After I enjoyed the trickle and clomp a while, I went out to help. Dirty glass masked the glint of sun on melting snow and it seemed just plain silly not to get out there.
I worked at the driveway, chopping through snowpack long since turned to ice. Now it softened, and by Sunday it would be clear.
Careful to keep my eyes on the driveway, I pretended my entire family did not stand on a slick, snow-covered slope. Especially when I heard the taunts of my youngest calling, “Mom! Look at me! I’m sliding! Whoa, I’m falling! Ahhh!”
Of course, he wasn’t falling anywhere.
He just wanted to see if I would throw up on the driveway.
I almost did.
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The guys, they know my “ailment.” They know I practice an abnormal and persistent fear. Not a fear of heights myself; no, I’d have traded places on the roof with any of them as long as they all went back to ground level. Bile rises when others are more than a foot or two off the ground.
Sure, it’s ridiculous and irrational.
But I shudder, racked by tremors born one day years ago as I stood helpless on the ground watching the probably-not-as-big-as-I-remember ferris wheel at Camp Snoopy carry my four-year old — unbuckled, unseated, unsupervised and unfazed — to its peak, surely just to dump him out onto the ground, stories below.
As I stood and watched shovels full of heavy, wet snow land on the deck and the bushes, my gaze followed them back up until I realized I was watching the guys work. I stood on the ground, still, and watched my household slip and slide around on a slushy rooftop, standing even with tree tops.
And I didn’t vomit.
I even went inside and got a camera.
::
Here was a sign of growth, as sure as green sprigs that will, one day soon, poke up through the layers of white.
When their work was complete, I stood at the base of the ladder, holding it secure while each descended from the snowy rooftop. I even looked up at the bottoms of their feet now and then.
I marveled that maybe, just maybe, I’m getting over it.
Last night, Isaac told me to grow up. (In all fairness, I probably told him to first.)
Perhaps in at least this small way, I am.
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i love ur creativity on writing. keep up on the great work.
2010/01/19 at 10:00 AM
thanks gina!
2010/01/19 at 10:05 AM
I remember that excursion to the Mall of America. I was a little nervous myself. Having done some silly things in my youth that may have tempted my guardian angel, I guess I know where JP is coming from although I think he has a lot more Evel Knievel in him than I have. You know, your mom didn’t like me climbing ladders and working on scaffolding 25 feet in the air so maybe your phobia has its origins in genetics. Great story.
Dad
2010/01/19 at 10:16 AM
Loved this story , and the way you weaved it , Lyla.
And growing out of a fear is huge.
Smiling for you.
2010/01/19 at 11:04 AM
My favorite book comes to mind…Hinds Feet on High Places. The main character, her name is Much-Afraid. I totally related to her. Agreeing with Deb – “growing out of fear is huge.”
2010/01/19 at 8:28 PM
Nancy, love that book.
Deb, thank you. Fear is not usually my thing, and so this thing that overtakes me really throws me.
Dad, we’re all happier with you off the scaffolding.
2010/01/19 at 8:32 PM
My kids on a slick, snowy roof? I’m not sure I’d have overcome that fear. Any conquering of fear is definitely a God-given courage.
2010/01/19 at 8:41 PM
Jennifer, at least yours have a lower center of gravity. And for at least half the span of the roofline, if they fell it would have been into feet of snow. Even so, it’s the first time in years I’ve been able to look and not double over.
2010/01/19 at 8:45 PM
Lyla:
I’ve been thinking about this (always a high risk endeavor). Maybe one of the reasons that you are less stressed by this is the age of the boys. Sub-consciously you have more confidence in their judgment not to do something stupid like standing up and leaning over the side of a ferris wheel. You are experiencing one of the tough parts of parenting, letting them make choices. That’s it today from the Minnesota Geezer Psychiatric Clinic.
Dad
2010/01/20 at 6:29 PM
Dad, you might be right. But consider this: I am weeks away from having two teenagers. Two.
I suppose I should keep an ample supply of parent-sickness bags on hand.
2010/01/20 at 9:29 PM
I cannot tell you how this makes me smile! NOt your fear, of course (every mother knows this gripping irrational paralyzing thing that takes over common sense and all pride when things like children on a roof are involved)–but these pictures! Isn’t it fun to learn about these local habits that our clime makes necessary?
I’m glad you are doing well, Lyla. I’ve been remiss in my visits! Missed you.
2010/01/20 at 9:51 PM
We never stop growing up, do we?
2010/01/21 at 2:53 PM
Laura, our climate indeed creates strange habits. Good to see you too.
Kelly, clearly I never do. Others are better at it than I.
2010/01/21 at 5:51 PM