A beautiful autumn day, a perfect day for hiking, and we came to two signs in our path. Easy. Difficult.
As a courtesy, he asked which I prefer. Taking the path least taken makes the best adventures and quite honestly, there isn't much about either of our personalities that would choose the path that said Easy.
Twenty minutes or so before, we came to a bridge with water trickling over a slate waterbed. I wanted to see if the rest of the waterbed was as beautiful as our current view, so we get off the path and walk up the slate and rock waterbed to see where it would take us.
Less than a millisecond and I was down and sliding. A giant boulder damp with green moss was like walking on ice going downhill. I slipped, slid, until I stopped ankle deep in the water.
Because the rock was covered in damp moss, I couldn't move to get up off the slippery boulder, and my mind was in a bit of a panic thinking of the water snakes that could potentially be slithering after my ankle.
Snap. Snap. Snap. I look up hearing his laughter to find he is taking pictures of me, capturing this moment.
Laughing, he says, "Didn't I tell you not to walk where it's green?" A short time later he says, "Do you always fall when your hiking or is it only with me?" Quite honestly, I don't ever remember falling when hiking. I do believe I have fallen every single time "we" have gone hiking though.
We get back on the path and came within, I'm guessing 20 feet of two does. Clearly unafraid of us and the approaching hikers, gracefully walking down the steep leaf covered hill, never losing footing, we stood there and watched in fascination.
We saw a giant waterfall, trickling slate waterbeds, crossed bridges, and climbed between boulders on a path of bright red leaves from the almost empty tree beside it.
We chose the Difficult path for most adventure, because that is the nature of our relationship. We choose nature over artificial, man-made pleasures respecting and admiring beauty. And we snap a lot of pictures along the way to document our journey together, laughs, and memories.
Today is my last day of being at home. Tomorrow, I very jokingly say that I am joining the working-class, the mere commoners who work for a living. These last four months off have been a treasure.
I've enjoyed every single day my windows have been open to sunshine and fresh air. I've enjoyed the gift of time. Time with my girls. Time with David. Time for myself. Time at home when my girls needed me.
Reflecting back ... I wouldn't have changed a thing.
