Knee to Knee, Forehead to Forehead.

It was nearing dusk but we didn’t care. We had hustled and bustled all the tedious hot hours of the day to get our commitments and chores done on this bright Sunday. It was our wedding anniversary and we had our tradition to maintain: a one-year review.

We still had two children living with us. But they were older teens, quite independent and visiting friends this evening.

Our truck came to a lazy stop on the gravel parking lot. There were several others at this popular site because there were lookout benches onto the valley below. My husband and I had no doubts about living in the mountains and this annual journey was a memorial. During our first year building our home from scratch, we discovered the hidden trail on a weekday and had the whole rock-laden pinnacle to ourselves. We had easily reviewed the goals of the previous year and knew our steps for the next. Today I felt rock solid about our marriage but I just didn’t know how much of my personal turmoil I could share with my husband for the house still wasn’t completed. We had finally found a bank to finance the unfinished livable shell, but I was tired of living in rooms separated by clear plastic sheets with layers of drywall powder on every horizontal surface.

My boots hit the path with a puff of dust. My socks were sweaty and matched how my clothes felt against my skin but we forsook all pretense to look good in order to gain our bench before dark. There were other couples and families returning from the elevated spiral walkway. Smiles from these friendly faces helped settle my discomfort. My husband had promised a heart-to-heart talk as firm as his warm hand hold as we wormed through the exiting groups on our way up the well-worn trail. That’s why when I lost track of him later my pulse stopped mid-breath.  We had disconnected our hands to wiggle between a group viewing an empty eagle’s nest on a nearby tree top when a dog’s bark distracted me from the spectacle to look around and discover I had lost him.

I waited patiently for what I thought was about five minutes, but he did not return. Then I scouted nearby scenic spots on the same circular path, thinking that if I missed him entirely, surely he would show up at the parking lot as a last resort.

After asking others if they had seen his blue shirt and brown shorts, I panicked. Was he hurt? I didn’t want to embarrass myself by yelling his name so I kept checking every turn off, knowing he wouldn’t purposely leave me. Not on our anniversary!

It darkened. I could see headlights shining on the roads several miles below in the valley where the black cat of night had silently crept in. The last few rays of sunlight lit angles of my search. Most of the fellow trekkers had departed and the viewing benches were empty.

I found the one we had christened as “ours.” It was empty. My heart raced. Instead of the beauty of my surroundings, I reviewed the hard tasks of the day and how I envied my husband’s clear vision of his role in construction and meaningful meetings with other men on their’s. In contrast, I felt my tasks of maintaining household matters and monitoring all the phone calls for needed services paled in regards to importance. Our children no longer needed a mother’s perspective and I often felt alone.

I leaned on the back of the wooden bench and inhaled the sweetness of the twilight air, trying to stay in the moment. I had to find my husband despite my problems. Where would he go? How could he leave?

Then it struck me: Was this his plan? Shudders of scary awareness raced down my limbs. I plummeted toward the parking area. I ran over to the truck.

He wasn’t there.

I stood, arms straight at my side, transfixed by my dilemma. He had the keys so I didn’t even have a chance to climb inside. Yikes. I thought. I’m really stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place.

I sat on the rear bumper, arms crossed, visibly upset for the last driver to leave asked if I wanted a ride to town. I thanked him for the offer but told him I’d wait for my husband.

He looked around. “Where the heck is she? I led a couple to an alternate pathway and she wasn’t here at the eagle nest stop when I returned.  I should have told her about guiding them but I thought I would only be gone for a second or two. Where would she go?

He searched the shallow alcoves near the eagle nest and asked others if they had seen her yellow blouse and gray shorts. He tapped the water bottle, worried she would get thirsty, and absent mindedly searched for the phone they had left in the glove compartment for the climb was too high an altitude for it to work. The thoughts about her hesitancy to talk had convinced him that he had to stay strong in his belief they could handle anything – together. Ah, yes, he thought. Together. He had to make that happen.

Stopping at a turnout, he viewed the valley below. Houses were glowing with lights as nighttime grabbed its rightful place. He placed hands wide on his hips, meditating on what she might have done from a practical standpoint. Sure that she would still head for their bench, no matter what time of day, he pressed onward.

When he got there, he was disappointed she wasn’t sitting there waiting for him. He scratched his head. This was getting harder for him to figure out. Maybe she left on purpose. Maybe she gave up and hitched a ride and left him?

No. No way. He shook his head. He would have known things were that bad. She just needed him to help balance things out. This was just temporary. Don’t jump to conclusions, he told himself.

He turned from the bench and headed back down the track.

Not able to just sit in silence any longer, the last daytime visitors gone, she decided to reascend their original course. The only other sound outside the thud of her heel on the ground in the newly doused sunlight was her breathing. Not even the crickets were ready to sound yet. It were as though all of nature was held still in a spooky silence. She pushed forward as though she could force it to take that one long full breath she was after to revive herself.

Although there was no one else on the path now, he didn’t panic. His soles knew the way better than he did with their innate agility to compensate for the erosion and overgrown roots but his gut was heavy. He needed to see her. To find her. Their marriage was a long range prayer meant for more than this one day of discomfort. He gulped and kept downward, discarding other negative thoughts.

Both heard the distant thumping of the other’s footsteps. The sky was black as a raven’s wing before moon and stars could dutifully reflect the sun. In minutes, they saw the shadow of the other. Each fell into the other‘s open arms.

He muttered sweet words as she moaned relief. They hung onto each other wordlessly like branches that had grown along each other through years of growth. They sank to the dirt, knee to knee and forehead to forehead.

“I didn’t know what happened,” he said.

“I didn’t either,” she said.

“I’m sorry to lose you.”

“I can’t live without you.”

He tightened his fingers on her shoulders, speaking gently into her soul, “Remember, we’ll always find each other because the years have shown us that we’re not alone.”