If you are my last lover, so be it.

I waited a long , long time for desire to find me.

When it did, it hit me hard and released a part of me that was long held captive.

I’m grateful.

Mary asks me if I am happy, you remark that you are glad I’m happy. I correct you, I am contented. I was happy in those moments shared with you.

Philadelphia just had its 4th biggest snowfall over the weekend. I made soup minus the tomatoes. Got up this morning, put on my Sorels and headed the 2 blocks to my neighborhood food coop. Side streets may have been plowed once on the in the last 24 hours. People shoveling a foot of snow or more off their cars and around them. In the next 48 hours the snow will melt and refreeze, much more difficult to clear or move.

I walk down the middle of the side street greeting people along the way. First half of the block saw 4 or 5 women shoveling, then a  mix of men and women at the end of the block. Wondered aloud if that was an indication of how many single women live nearby? Coop open, need 1 thing, buy 5. Cross the street to the coffee shop, get coffee and walk toward home, take a different route so I can see what I am up against in clearing my car.

A woman is stuck at the corner turning onto my street, 4 wheel drive Audi with a standard transmission. A couple of men are shoveling and pushing, trying to get her moving. I announce that I’m from Buffalo, get some cardboard to put under the wheels for traction. One of the men goes to get cardboard. Visiting with friends as I walk down the block. Saw 2 couples with baby packs and I am reminded of my grandson, Jack’s first snow last weekend in Boston.

When I get to my car I’m dazzled by my good decision making. There is no snow on the car except for an inch on the windshield. I chose to park on the side street rather than the bus route my apartment faces on because I thought the plow would push less snow against my parked car. Turns out it is also more protected from wind so there were no drifts, just a smidgen of snow on the windshield and lots around the car.

The woman in the Audi is stuck again at my end of the street on the block I am parked on near the corner. She went out to get a prescription. She doesn’t know how to rock the car back and forth, I offer to do that while she and a couple of neighbors shovel around her car. I go up to get my small kids shovel while they work. When I come back I offer to try to drive/rock the car. I recognize the pedals and that’s about it, keyless, with push button who knows what. It basically won’t move. The woman goes to get a pizza box she put out for recycling to use for traction.

Two young men are walking down the bus route with shovels over their shoulders, as if to say shovel for hire. And I do, for $20 they will shovel out my car. One begins and the other tries to help the woman who is stuck, we are now up to 2 neighbors, the young man and the woman and myself.

I call out up the street to someone who is shoveling and ask if he can come help a damsel in distress. He walks down to help. Still no movement, the Audi is not even spinning it’s wheels. Finally a man drives down the street, he is 4/5 of the way down the street so backing up, although an option is not an attractive option. He sticks his head out to find out what’s going on. Someone suggest he could back-up, I yell or see if you can help us meet critical mass, I can’t believe with this many people we can’t make something happen. We are at least 30 minutes in by then. He helps and within another 5 minutes she is moving, then parking. Her space has been cleared in the hopes she can get out again.

I thank the man whose car is still running and tease him that he was the tipping point. Here’s what I’m thinking–why do people, maybe women in particular, have so much trouble asking for what they need? In so many ways this is critical. Admittedly, I’m reading Rising Strong, by Brene Brown and I’m thinking, why do we not feel worthy? What is it about asking for help that triggers feelings of neediness and shame? Does asking for help when we need it remind us of our own helplessness?

This is another form of grace that comes with age I find, I ask for what I need and want.