Climb the stairs they're not so steep. Bend down the branches.

Isn't there some Eastern saying about strong trees bending but not breaking?

Maybe Buddha or Confucius? One of the big names, anyway.

We saw it this winter, with the endless snows. Some bent low and survived. And others broke under the strain. Some fell over entirely, roots raw and exposed.

There's only so much flexibility until the breaking point.

You'd see these elegant white snowflakes falling, landing like little kisses, gentle and sweet. And yet, you'd get enough in one place, and suddenly, it was too much.

I would wonder which snowflake tipped it, you know?

Most of the time, I can't imagine spending my life with anyone other than Nick. I'm never bored with him. He makes me laugh. He makes me feel safe. I respect his brain. Our world views coincide.

But we're constantly back to the same arguments. They circle and strangle like angry vines. And our branches, they are full before the words even begin.

This past year has been a pile-on year.

Not all negative - some wonderful. But a relentless stream.

Pregnancy. The death of my father. Moving. Moving again. A C-section. Jordan. The new old house that's justjust started being nice. The one that my friends now admit to thinking was "scary" and "creepy" and "worrisome" when we first moved in.

Sunday night, after our second fight of the day, I really began to think that maybe we wouldn't survive this year. Maybe neither of us could bend any further.

Maybe the lack of sleep and the endless work on the house - Every. Single. Weekend - and the lack of time to ever just BE, just the two of us, maybe the cumulative effect was just too debilitating.

Maybe our roots weren't deep enough when we began. Maybe the kid and the new old house would actually break us.

I said as much, calmer, cooler, close to midnight. Will we break?

And Nick said no. Look, love, look around. Look at the beauty we've made. We've finally dug out from under. We're starting to live in the light.