Halfway through, my neighbor from a few houses down drives up and rolls down his window. This neighbor has a snow blower, and I've watched him clear his driveway and his next door neighbor's driveway several times this winter. I've watched him while I've shoveled mine all by myself. I've cursed him under my breath several times for not even offering to help me.
"Sorry I didn't come help you, my wife said I can't."
"Huh? May I ask why she wouldn't let you."
"Ummm... she says that's what you get for kicking your husband out."
"Hahahahahahaha. Tell your wife I said thanks, but I wouldn't have let you help anyway. I can do this by myself. Obviously."
Seriously, lady? You can keep your husband around to shovel snow if you want to, but I got this.
I wasn't raised to be helpless. My grandma did everything on her own, and never once did I hear her long for the days when she had a husband around to do it for her. It never even occurred to me to need someone. I've been taking care of myself since long before I should have, and I imagine I always will.
Was it nice to not have to mow or shovel or change the oil in my car? Sure. Did I enjoy being able to stay inside and make hot chocolate and get pelted with snow against the kitchen door. Sure. Do I long for those days? Not even a little.
My husband and I split for a lot of reasons, but not one of them can be overshadowed by my desire to stay warm and dry during a snowstorm.
I am not helpless.
I can shovel my own driveway.
Take out my own trash.
Take my car to a mechanic.
And anything else that lady's husband might do for her.
I can also breathe easier knowing no one's going to come stumbling in drunk at 3 am.
No one takes over the remote control.
The recliner is mine.
Salad is on the menu.
Everyone who judges me lives outside of my house.
I'm a lot of things. Most of them not very nice. But I am not helpless. And, I've got the cleanly shoveled driveway to prove it.
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