a loonie love story

i have been married for one whole year. a fall, a winter, a spring a summer and now it's fall again so we'll repeat that same cycle over and over until we're 98 and 100 respectively and decide to lie down on the forest floor and rest eternally or until the park ranger shovels us off the trail.

maybe they'll erect a monument! here lies two swell folks who loved each other and nature very much. and passerby will sit on our monument, (it will also be a bench), and ponder their own lives and loves whilst soaking in the scenery.

the last day of our trip we got up early and packed the car and drove to a trail to be the first ones on so we could spend the final hours of our outdoor adventure alone, together, in the wilderness. we stopped by a lake after an hour of walking to drink from our thermos of tea and share a peanut butter granola bar and found ourselves in total silence.

no cars no people no dogs no noise of any kind except the minute rumblings of only barely audible life. a loon flew past and we heard her wings. we shared a glance and heard the thoughts behind them. the love we share became a thing, like the fog on the lake, that didn't need to be expressed to be understood.

in the silence, if you can obtain it, is clarity. and an achingly wondrous feeling of freedom.