November 2023 – Sweat & Sparkle

Top of a Waterfall

My husband and I barely had time to touch base at home and do some quick laundry before we packed for our next trip, traveling to the mountains for Thanksgiving. I haven’t seen all of my brothers since our mom’s funeral, and I couldn’t believe I was able to coordinate getting them all in one place, but there they were, in all their loud, outspoken, goofy glory.

I am not sure the stars will align again for all of us to be in one place at the same time anytime soon, so I clung to every moment and enjoyed the trip immensely. Old nicknames and jokes and stories from childhood sprung up, and we laughed, and I saw in each of them the younger version of them hiding not so far behind that I’m-so-mature-and-grown-up act they put on for the rest of the world.

On Thanksgiving morning, we went for a hike. Well, I use the term “hike” loosely. It started innocently enough, strolling casually on a wooden boardwalk, then a well-worn grassy trail. Our first stop was a cool stream with large boulders and a bridge, and we hopped from rock to rock, took pictures, touched the cold, clear water. When my younger brother asked who was in to keep going to the waterfall, we all joined in the trek, blissfully unaware what was ahead of us.

The well-defined, worn path grew fainter, and dirt was gradually replaced with roots and small rocks, then larger and larger rocks. The path got so rough that we started to wonder if we were still on a path or if we had somehow wandered into straight-up wilderness.

Maybe it was a good time to turn around, head back to safety, and wait at the mountain lookout for the crazy people who wanted to keep going…except we became part of the crazy people who wanted to keep going. How many times in one lifetime do you get a chance to hike to a waterfall?

So we kept going. And the trail, if we are still calling it that, got even rougher. We started wading across streams, picking our way across slippery rocks that jutted from the water. Instead of walking on the trail now, we were mostly climbing, stepping over large roots or pulling ourselves up jagged rocks.

Did I mention that I was just recovering from a bad cough and had no business being in chilly weather, in high altitude, climbing rough terrain? If I had known what it would take to reach the waterfall, I certainly would have turned back, but as my husband said, it was too late now. We may as well see the top, because we had gone too far to quit now.

When we heard water, we thought we were close. We were, sort of. We could stand at the bottom of the waterfall and watch the water crash down and stream along beside us, and it was beautiful…but my niece called to me from the very top of the waterfall, and she looked so excited, and how could I not want to be up there too?

I flopped down onto a huge rock like a chair, exhausted. Despite the cold, I was sweating, and my lungs were burning. I took one look at the climb to the top — basically straight up a rocky, muddy cliff — and said no. The bottom of the waterfall was good enough.

My husband encouraged me, told me he knew I could do it. I wasn’t quite as sure, but I got my rear off that rock, and up the cliff we started.

This was no longer hiking, as far as I was concerned. We were moving up one hand-hold and foot-hold at a time on the steep mountainside, gripping crevices in rocks, pressing our feet against muddy clumps of grass and edges of rock. I apologized to my manicure as we worked our way up, one rock at a time, and just as I was certain I was certifiably insane for even trying this nonsense, there we were.

How do I describe the top of a waterfall? We were standing at the top of the mountain, crystal clear water streaming over boulders and a pebble-lined bottom, wintry trees all around us. It was magnificent. Unreal. I still couldn’t believe I had made it.

My brothers, sister-in-law, niece, and nephew were all there, along with my husband and me, and we explored, carefully treading across the boulders from one side of the stream to the other. I sat on a boulder near the edge of the waterfall with my oldest brother for a while, watching the others, talking, peering over the cliff to the bottom of the waterfall and then ducking back when I got dizzy.

I turned and saw my husband standing on a boulder not far away, and he looked so handsome in his tan-colored jacket and boots and jeans, picking up stones so my niece and nephew could skip rocks in the stream. He had climbed that cliff with ease, offering me a stream of encouraging words as we inched our way up, and now he stood there just like he belonged at the top of a waterfall, strong and wonderful and all mine. I smiled. It is an image in my head that I will never forget.

When I caught my breath, we wandered into the woods beside the stream and found our way even further upstream, above the waterfall, behind where branches and leaves had formed a small wall and blocked the view from the waterfall. Behind it was a staggered step-down of rocks coming down the hillside, almost like a staircase in the stream, with flat, smooth rocks we could step on. Water had eroded the coolest channels and cups and tunnels into the rocks, and we spotted some fish in this higher area, too.

I am grateful that my husband pushed me to get off that rock and finish the hike. I would have hated to miss the top of the waterfall. It was so indescribably beautiful, an experience I would have greatly regretted missing.

It felt symbolic too. Pardon me if I get too sentimental and sappy, but it was a tough climb that looked impossible from the bottom. One step at a time, though, we zigzagged our way to the top, and it was well worth the effort. We made it. Hardships either drive you apart or pull you closer together, and I am beyond grateful that we always use them to find our way closer, higher, entwined more tightly together. There is no one else in the world I want to stand on top of a waterfall with.

Happy (belated) Thanksgiving!

The Football Game

My husband and I took a 3-day weekend to head out of town, even though we knew it was going to make the rest of this week very hectic. With work, holiday travel, planning, and just daily life, it wasn’t logically a great decision to go away, but it was an early Christmas present for my husband, so I wanted to make it happen.

I was shopping online for a football jersey from his favorite college team when it crossed my mind: why give him a shirt, when I can give him the experience of a game?

So that’s what we did. We packed up our fan gear and hit the road. We got to the stadium early to check out the tailgating vendors, the music, the excitement. We got to see the coach and the team arrive on the bus. (Well, he did, since he’s tall. Me? I stared at people’s backs but clapped anyway).

We went to our seats and right away hit it off with a couple with a young boy seated in front of us. A small crew formed around us, strangers laughing and joking and cheering together through the game. It was pretty damn cool.

The trip was a gift for my husband, but I had a blast, too. We had a nearly 6 hour drive home, and we talked about the game and how we want to do it again next season and anything else that popped into our heads. My husband got quiet for a moment, then reached over, patted my leg, and said, “Thank you.”

It made me happy to see him so happy. I think that is what is missing in so many relationships these days. People are so focused on what the other person should do for them, that they forget a relationship is a two-way street if it’s going to work, be healthy, and grow. It’s give and take. Love isn’t just a fancy, frilly word to toss around casually. Love is compassion, respect, honor, loyalty, honesty, and treasuring each other. Anything less simply isn’t love.

Going to the game meant having one weekend day to get everything done, from cleaning, to wrapping presents for relatives I will see this week, to laundry, to grocery shopping, to sipping chocolate wine (it’s not going to drink itself, now is it?) It made for a hectic Sunday, but it was absolutely worth it. At heart, we are homebodies, but sometimes it’s fun to have a little adventure together, too.

Soon!

Don’t Skip Thanksgiving

It happens every year, but it still tremendously irks me. Even before Halloween decorations have been taken down, stores stampede to toss Christmas trees and wreaths and flashing lights over every square inch like gaudy confetti, and they urge you to shop, shop, shop until you’re exhausted (and broke).

In the middle of it all, completely forgotten, pushed aside, ignored once again, is Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving is a quieter, more sedated, low-key holiday. I love Halloween, and we go all-out with our decorations. Although we don’t get nearly as elaborate with Thanksgiving decorations, I still have a soft spot for this holiday.

I like the idea of slowing down for a moment, taking time to reflect on what we might otherwise take for granted: people, family, jobs, pets, love, anything and everything that makes us smile or brings happiness to our lives. It’s important to acknowledge that and to make sure others know we appreciate them, and to remind ourselves of all that we have.

I look around our home, the yard that my husband and I put so much into, and I remember how hard we worked to find a place we both fell in love with. I see all the changes we have made to put our personal touch on it, make it ours. I am grateful not only for all of that, but for finding my true partner in the first place to do all of this with.

For years, this holiday has meant traveling up north to spend a few days with my mom in my childhood home, and hopefully seeing my brothers, too. It still stings that I won’t be seeing my mom anymore, but I can’t stay trapped in the sadness and loss. My mom liked to decorate too, especially when my brothers and I were still little, and some of the Thanksgiving decorations in my home now were once hers. It means a lot to me to place them where I can see them and feel just a little bit closer to her.

I don’t like the frantic, thoughtless, mad rush straight to Christmas, as if Thanksgiving is a nothing holiday that doesn’t matter. Today, to be honest, it means more than ever. The more people bury their faces in cell phones, the more we need direct, human-to-human, genuine contact. The more people prize material things and inanimate objects, the more we need to emphasize the value of friends, family, loved ones. The more people immerse themselves in artificial interactions on social media, the more we desperately need neighbors, conversations, families telling stories, meaningful connections and authentic relationships.

So yes, I know Christmas is coming, and I don’t hate or reject Christmas. But a holiday focused on gratitude, thankfulness, and family should not be skipped over in the haste to get to presents and Santa Claus. Each year, it seems that Thanksgiving dims more and more, and each year, it seems like we need it even more than ever.