Love the "whine" you're with: Red roses and waterfalls

The day before New York State went on official lock-down, Brad came home from work where I was already going stir-crazy from the sudden and dizzying transition to long-distance teaching. "Do you want to grab take-out from somewhere?" he'd asked tiredly, having left the house that morning at 4:30 before returning shortly before 5 o'clock. The words hadn't even left his mouth before I'd shouted "Yes!", throwing open the door, skipping out onto the sidewalk, bounding across the lawn, and then leaping into the van like a Labrador. I then proceeded to offer forth a fascinating, detail-oriented running commentary of EVERYTHING I saw as we drove to pick up my raspberry wings. It was at this moment that Brad Mosiman realized, for the sake of my sanity and to delay divorce, that daily doses of outdoor adventure were required.

Today's adventure was to the waterfalls in Rossburg. I am not the nimble young mountain goat that I once was...my surefootedness has been replaced with slipping, stumbling, sliding, and screaming. More "ninny" than "nanny." Brad spent the bulk of his hiking time hiking BACK to me...offering a steadying hand which immediately got slapped away as I inappreciatively snapped, "Let me balance off your shoulder!" Many a 4th grader has been used as a helpful handrail in just this fashion. Fortunately, despite my ungrateful attitude, we were soon standing at the base of the first set of falls and, to my utter delight, we were able to wade right in thanks to our tall rubber boots. Not a fan of the selfie (but apparently a fan of me...even when I'm a jerk), Brad indulged me with some picture-taking. I noticed, wedged in a crack, a red rose resting in
the water. "Do you think it was an accident?" I wondered but my ever-observant husband had already noticed the placement of several other roses on our walk but had left the joy of discovering them to me. Don't get too excited...it's not THAT kind of story. No...Brad Mosiman did not "plant" the roses earlier but, oh my goodness...wouldn't that have been the most ROMANTIC GESTURE EVER!?!?

No. Instead we speculated stories of how the flowers happened to be there. Over-the-top artsy photo shoot? Marriage proposal? Symbolic numeration representing the number of victims of a serial killer? A bad break-up resulting in a Tallahatchie Bridge scenario?

Our walk was wonderful! And not just in the "Isn't it so pretty?" sort of way or the "Hey, look! A duck!" sort of way. We talked and laughed and had fun being together. Don't get me wrong. I love Brad Mosiman with all my heart. But after thirty years of marriage, we sometimes have to resort to the "Hey, look! There's a duck!" method of interacting. Today...we were together. I hope that is the case for you, dear friend. That during this odd period of time...where we are ripped away from the rest of the world...that you are drawn even closer to those you love. That you get to know them, all over again. And, even better, discover that you STILL like them...even after thirty years!