Romantic

Fourteen years ago in September, I met Bry. Things moved very quickly in our relationship, and we were happy. In the spring after we met, he took me up to the lake that he and his friends went camping and boating at. As we drove higher and higher into the mountains, the air chilled and the snow started falling. We pulled up to the boat dock and I was worried that we would become stuck in the snow that was still lying on the ground. Bry was more concerned about the water level in the lake. 

The snow was still melting, and falling, but the lake was very low. The waterline didn't even reach the boat dock. He told me stories of his camping adventures, and how much fun they had in the summers on the boat and drinking. I couldn't wait to hang out with them all, camping, fishing, and having fun in the water. I loved the water and was thrilled to finally be able to go on a boat and swim. 

We jumped back into his car, drove up to the place they camped, and got out to look around. He showed me the camp site, snuggled, and let me look at the beauty of the lake surrounded by snow covered mountains. When I turned around to go back to the car, he was leaning against a table, carving our names into the already covered surface. I smiled, my heart melting a bit - no one had ever done that before. 

Fourteen years later, we drove up to that same lake.

The water line was even lower than it had been the first time we were there. It reinforced my worries about a drought season, and had me praying for snow, something I never did.

It was freezing, just as it had been the first time we were there, and both of us were in tee-shirts. He wanted to see the boat dock, and I secretly wanted to see if our carving was still there. The water didn't even come close to the dock. It was almost a football field away, forcing people to drive their boats and trucks through the dried-up lake to get to the water. We were horrified at how low the water line was. 

However, it provided perfect access to the table where our names were carved. So, in the comfort of our heated truck, Bry drove us through the dirt-that-should-be-water lake and over toward the campsite. There, in the chilly evening, with snow threatening to fall, we found our carving.

I couldn't believe it! After all these years, the table with our names on it was still there, with the declaration of us still marked into its surface. Bry wasn't satisfied, so he renewed our carving. 

"Now it will be there for sure, for another thirteen years," he said to me with chattering teeth.

I smiled up at him, shivering too much to talk. Hand-in-hand we ran back to the truck with the heat blasting. 

"I can't believe it was still there," I said as my body started warming. "I can't believe that table has never moved, or that someone didn't carve over it. How many people do you think have carved their names somewhere and are still together, thirteen years later?"

I didn't really expect an answer, and didn't get one. I just watched the snow fall outside my window as we drove off the mountain and home to our kitties, my heart warming with renewed love for my husband.