Friday, November 16, 2012

Tree Rings

At lunch today, my friend P and I were talking about all the places we'd like to visit someday.

We both agreed that there are a lot of places in the U.S. that we want to see before we go overseas. P just got back from a trip down South with one of her grown sons. While driving back, he asked her to name the top five places she wanted to see.

"The Mississippi River," she said, off the top of her head.

"What?!" he exclaimed. He couldn't believe this was her first choice. But she wants to sail down the river, not just see it.

"South Dakota, to see Mt. Rushmore," she said, giving him her second choice.

"You want to go to South Dakota just to see Mt. Rushmore?" he asked.

"Yup, just to see Mt. Rushmore," she said.

"What about the Grand Canyon?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's up there. But not top five. The redwoods forest," she said, her third choice. "I want to see the trees that are big enough for cars to drive through."

He doesn't get it.

I agree with Mt. Rushmore. But I have no burning desire to see the Mississippi River. If I happen to cross it sometime, great.

But I'm not going out and looking for it.
When she spoke of the redwoods forest, it reminded me of something that happened on my honeymoon with the Man.


We spent our honeymoon driving around the state of Washington. We meandered for two weeks around the state - starting in Seattle, driving the Olympic peninsula, crossing the Strait of Juan de Fuca to visit Victoria, BC, and then west and south along the Pacific coastline.

Lots of time in the car.

Looking at lots of very. big. trees.

So one day we're driving through a national forest, surrounded by trees that were {very} very old. Trees you could drive your car through.

But it was a little lot of bit spooky. Everything was prehistoric-size. And not a lot of sun penetrated through the millions and millions of leaves. It was very gloomy. Like something out of a B-grade horror movie.

I got a little nervous, being that we were the only car on the dark, gloomy road with huge trees above us and around us. 

So I started playing with my diamond engagement ring. Pulling it off and putting it back on. Pulling it off and putting it back on. Off and on. Off and on. Off and on.

The Man looked at me and told me to stop playing with my ring or I'd end up losing it.

But I couldn't stop. Off and on. Off and on. Off and on.

Kerplink. I dropped it. It tumbled down, down, down, in between the seat and the middle console.


The Man slammed on the brakes, came around to my side of the car, and told me to get out. 

Oh no, he's going to kill me. And leave my body deep in these dark, dark woods. But no, he just wanted to take the seat out so he could find the ring. Which he did, tout de suite. 

He put it back on my finger and told me to LEAVE IT ALONE.

Okay, okay. I'll leave it alone.


It's amazing we're still married.

1 comment: