Sometimes you just need to go sledding

This last weekend I learned an important lesson about life and nature and how the two can actually help save a marriage.
See, Michael and I have this weekly tradition of having one screaming match per weekend. It always starts out the same way, Michael makes some harmless, yet still sarcastic, remark that sets my blood to boiling. I repress my burning desire to murder him on the spot in an attempt to avoid our weekly brawl and then I notice a piece of paper that I have asked him to put away a dozen times or I open the cabinet to see an overflowing trash can or I trip on one of his three pairs of shoes sprawled on the living room floor and it pushes me right over the edge.... Then we yell and scream and I cry... It usually ends with an hour or so of silence, me apologizing, then I cook dinner and we end the day in a sort of awkward, fake coziness. The next morning all is forgotten and we start a new week.
This week things went a little differently.
See, New York was hit with a major snow storm on Friday and we ended up getting 6 inches of perfect sledding snow. And Michael loves to sled. He turns into a little kid, laughing and smiling... it's really quite wonderful. So, on Saturday we went sledding and I had a little reminder of the man I originally fell in love with almost 10 years ago.
But then Sunday came. We almost made it, but chores and school and dogs finally got the better of us and the weekly fight ensued. I snapped, he lectured, I cried, he left. He left to go sledding. He took his little blue saucer sled and left me crying in the bathroom. I was devastated.
But then, my husband did something even more unexpected than leaving. He called me and asked me to join him. And when I refused him he came home and got me and forced me to join him in his joy. It wasn't an apology, but it made me feel better. It made me smile. And at the end of the day we were cozy, not just awkward. And I had yet another reminder of why I fell in love with him to begin with.