A tale of two Anniversary Hikes

It was the best of times. Set in the worst of times.

The morning before our January anniversary, Hubby tried again.

“How will we celebrate?”

Normally, I offer plenty of suggestions way beyond our first anniversary, when his parents paid for dinner at the Wagon Wheel Restaurant. Afterward, Hubby and I planned to eat our wedding cake’s top layer for dessert, only to discover the fridge in our $97.50-per-month apartment had not kept it edible. Bleah!

More than four decades later, we pay for our own celebratory meals, sometimes in restaurants with daunting silverware and equally daunting prices. We no longer limit getaway weekends to exotic locales like Wabash and Goshen. Once, we even splurged on a trip to Hawaii.

But now, with COVID messing with our lives, how could we celebrate?

“Cheer up,” Hubby said. “At least, we don’t have to taste that gross wedding cake.” He brightened. “Let’s take a hike.”

“Take a hike?” I glared. “I know we’ve been together a lot lately, but separate wedding anniversary celebrations?”

“I said, ‘Let’s take a hike,’” he said patiently, though by now, I could see the distancing idea appealed to him.

“But we’ve been doing that the entire year,” I protested. His Fitbit thingy is exhausted, keeping up with us. “Besides,” I said, “it’s cold.” Snuggling and drinking hot chocolate with double whipped cream seemed the smart thing to do.

“Have you looked outside? I want to play in the snow.”

I stuck my nose to the frosty window. Then joined him in donning cold-weather hiking gear.

Mitten-in-mitten, we reveled in a nearby forest’s pristine beauty. Verdant pines and leafless oaks looked equally elegant. Outlined by in white, dry, brown weeds and thorny, ugly bushes proclaimed their Creator’s redemption.

We followed deer and rabbit tracks. Though seemingly dormant, the forest teemed with life.

Life coursed through us, too, love and laughter. Our decades together rested light and joyous as the snow.

It was the best of times.

Then came our second hike, planned for our actual anniversary. Despite maybe-our-toes-willfreeze-maybe-not weather, Hubby and I drove to nearly deserted Ouabache State Park. Trees, having lost most of their magical white clothing, shivered, apologetic because they were half-naked. Melted snow had refrozen on trails, so we slid over icy footsteps made by others. Temperatures rose somewhat. Better, right? Wrong. We plowed through dark, sticky mud, attractive only when I imagined we were adventuring through triple-chocolate brownie batter. Temperatures rose again.

Now we navigated mud and puddles. Then forded streams running across trails. Images of the children of Israel crossing the Red Sea and Jordan River flooded my brain.

At least, they were biblical thoughts — more biblical than some eddying in my mind.

A clearing! We had reached the park’s enormous bison pen, but not a single animal met our gaze.

Maybe they were smarter than we. “Here, bison, bison, bison!” I called.

We finally spotted the big, shaggy animals, huddled at one end. They barely blinked at our presence.

Bored bison are so romantic. Especially their smell.

Water often generates swoon-moon-june feelings, even in January. But the half-frozen lake, a blank gray, resembled an old black-and-white TV screen.

Skinny-dipping? For polar bears only.

Still, Hubby asked, “Want to kayak?” “What, not enough ice and water for you on this trail?” I queried.

Fortunately, he was only half-serious. But he told me the Boy Scout story again. How he and his troop, during their winter paddle, chewed bubble gum to mend their busted canoe. “We had fun,” he insisted.

Though our second hike had not, by any stretch of the imagination, proved easy, we had enjoyed it, too. Together.

On January 4, 1975, I would not have anticipated having fun on a mud hike. That day, we were all about storybook moments, white and sparkly like my wedding gown.

After 46 years, we still live those moments, as we did on that incredible, snowy hike.

But mud-hike marriage moments still happen, even in Hawaii. When I fell on a tropical trail, Hubby extracted me from sucky mud that stained us orange for days.

Thank God, we have not told each other to take a hike.

Instead, we have taken each other along on a lifelong hike that includes the best of times and the worst of times.

We wouldn’t have it any other way.