Eating Popsicles in the Sprinkler

Peace, quiet, warm and cool. There was you, lying in the soft, rich green grass, propped up on your elbow and me sitting close by with your head gently nudging my leg. And there was the endless sky above with countless stars shining through the vastness of space. It seemed if the entire universe surrounded just you and I as we sat eating our popsicles those hot summer nights. Our little ones were fast asleep in our apartment with their window open offering some relief from the heat of the day. We sat in the field behind our apartment, close enough so we could hear our children’s cries if they needed us, but far enough away that it felt as if there was no one else in all the world except for you and I. We heard quite often how couples needed time together, a date night, a movie, a dinner, a dance. All we needed was a Popsicle and a clear summer night sky. We sat there sometimes in deep conversation about our day, and our thoughts of our future, sometimes in silence and wonder at the magic of the moment. Those were my all-time favorite dates. Thank-you for sharing that time with me. It meant so much to me and it still means so much to me. Oh, and yes, the sprinklers did turn on once, soaking us during our revelry.

Walking The Garden

One of my favorite things to do with you during those early years was walking with you to our little garden. Everything seemed to quiet down as we performed this nearly nightly ritual. We would put Lisa into her stroller and leave our apartment, your studies, my housework and most of our busy lives behind, and walk ever so slowly to our garden. Slowly, because we wanted to savor every minute of the cool evening air and the beautiful orange and purple sunsets. I remember walking past each of the little gardens, noticing how one neighbor’s corn was growing well, and another neighbor’s weeds had taken over. With so much anticipation I walked, wondering, “Did our garden survive the night? Are the weeds under control? Are things growing? And Did anyone take that cucumber I am looking forward to eating?” We’d get up to our garden and just stand there staring. We’d notice that the little irrigation ditches you put in to make sure everything was getting water were seemingly quite effective. The plants were rich in color and producing well. The pests seemed to be staying away, and amazingly no one had raided our little vegetables. I can still smell the fresh air of those evenings. I can still hear the calming quiet of a field of gardens. I can still feel the warmth of your hand as it gently grabs hold of mine signaling, “I guess we’d better be getting back,” as we would slowly turn, and tear ourselves from our little garden, and head back to our busy life.

Pregnant and Runnind Up the Stairs

“Strong and healthy.” That was how you described me. I was 8 months pregnant and, because we were living in “Married Student Housing” there were many women in our ward who were in various stages of pregnancy. You were watching several of them as they waddled up and down the stairs to help with various aspects of a meeting we were attending. Then it was my turn to help. I, not wanting to waste any time, quickly stood and briskly walked to the stairs and gleefully trotted up them, did my thing, then trotted down back to your side. You smiled, nodded your head and said something like “I see all these other women walking like they are in so much pain and discomfort. And then I see you just hop up there like everything is wonderful. You look so strong and healthy.” A light was shining from your direction. It was the pregnancy glow, not mine, but yours, there on your face, you had a “pregnancy glow”. It was beautiful!

Rescuing Me From the Pit Bull

The title says it all. You and I had been married for about 7 months and we went on a long hike (about 12 miles). Half of the hike was cross country through the small canyon just north of Squaw Peak. That was a blast climbing down the rocks. I remember seeing the tops of the long, narrow pine trees right in front of us, then we’d scramble down the face of a small “cliff” and we’d be at the bottom of the pine trees that we just saw the top of. We came out of the canyon just above Foothill drive. We walked along the mountain and a new development for a little ways when we passed a house which had a viciously barking dog in the garage. We couldn’t see him but he sounded like a mad dog, out to kill someone. We both were grateful that there was a big garage door between us and that killer-dog. Suddenly, an odd looking old woman crept out of the front door, somewhat hunched over. She had a strange look in her eyes as she glanced our way. Slowly she shuffled over to the garage, and to our horror she opened the door. Out came barreling that dog, a large pit bull, straight toward us. We were about ½ of a block away, and it was making ground quickly. I stared at the lady in shock and she just stared back in such a cold, almost evil way. The dog continued charging toward us and you said to me, “Just keep on walking, and don’t look back. Don’t run, but walk quickly and no matter what you hear, don’t look back.” My heart froze and the hair all over my body stood on end and I blankly turned around and started walking away from you and away from that dog. Soon I heard a young voice screaming. I glanced back and saw a young teen-age girl calling, yelling to the dog to come home. She seemed as frightened as us but she kept screaming and screaming to the dog to come home. Finally, about 30 feet from you the dog slowed his pace, snarled at us and seemed to tear himself away from the chase. Once he was safely locked away in the garage again, you caught up to me. I asked you what you would have done had the dog not stopped. You said you would have done the only thing that would stop a dog like that. You would have forced your fist and arm as far down the dogs mouth as you could and try to break his neck. Tears came to my eyes, as they are coming now, as I realized just what you would be willing to sacrifice for me, and for our little one who would be born 4 months later. You are brave, and honorable, my White Knight.

Hiking Squaw Peak in the Lightning Storm

Do you remember that storm? Lightning was flashing all around us. Ninety or so strikes every minute. We were on the top of Squaw Peak, and the lightning strikes were within 20 feet of us. I could not believe what I was seeing. The static in the air was so intence, it felt as if it would lift me off the ground. We wanted to run as fast as we could down the mountain, but that would mean being out in the meadow, and it just didn't seem right, us running through an open meadow during such a fierce storm. We wanted to hide under the largest tree we could find. (There aren’t many large trees up there) But we knew that the large items would more likely get hit. So we cuddled under a scrub oak, your arm around me. We planted our feet firmly in the ground and huddled into a ball and waited out the storm. On the outside, it was dark, dangerous and scary. On the inside I was so happy to have my buddy there with me experiencing the magic of nature on the top of a mountain.