We’re here (we’re here!, isn’t anybody gonna give a cheer?)

We made it–it was exceptionally non-painful. Seriously– we walked through the lines, through the airport, and into the plane. No waiting. Sort of freaked us out a little. We’re leaving a LOT earlier next time!

The Rocky Mountains are… desolate. Alien. Beautiful. Dangerous. Big savage peaks, still holding onto snow with pure malice, and green wind scoured hills in between. The pine trees cling to the shale here using grit and cussedness and gnarled angry fingers, and there is the strangest sense of sky… I can not explain it. It’s like being a lima bean in a big bowl– or the Andrea Gale in the center of a calm ocean, with big granite swells in the distance, whipped to a frenzy by tectonic winds. Some of them are even spume white.

Cool. We even saw (from a distance) Longfellow’s Cross of Snow– frigid fucking poem, I can tell you that, and the view is just as chilling.

And Mate and I? We’re possibly more in awe of the 20 year mark than we are of the scenery– it just doesn’t SEEM THAT LONG. How could it possibly be twenty years? That would make us old, and bored, and weary of each other.

We got to the hotel room and just lay down in the quiet, and listened to our own hearts beating. We turned on the Wedding Singer and laughed, because it’s set in the era we got married in–but our wedding was (much like our honeymoon and this trip) on a budget. Mom made the dress, friend took the pictures, mom’s best bud made the cake, and we had it in the park.

People still tell us how much they loved that wedding–because everybody who was there really loved us, and although we were nervous during the ceremony, after I jumped my brother for punch (it was 105 degrees and my wedding dress was SATIN for chrissakes!) nobody stopped laughing. (Except my dad, when he thought Mate’s friends were going to sabotage our GMC Pacer. *snort* Because being a GMC Pacer wasn’t being constructed under a bad sign on it’s own.)

But my internet time is almost up and Mate and I still have a walk to take in the gossamer thin air. It’s weird–there is so much quiet, without the kids, we still treasure every word.

I’ll try and read up on everybody tomorrow!

Amy OUt!