When we woke up, every item in the tent was covered by a thin film of dust. The tent walls were being beaten violently by the wind, and the sand was beginning to form small dunes INSIDE the tent. John removed himself from our “shelter” rather quickly, and I chose to “tough” it out and go back to sleep. This was short lived, however, as I realized shortly thereafter that the reason I thought it hadn’t been so bad had been because John had been blocking the wind, and taking the beat down for me.
I sprung from the tent, seeking immediate reprieve from the needle sharp grains of sand being whipped in my face. I imagine it must have been pretty entertaining for him to watch from the protection of the vehicle. We worked together and fought Mother Nature for possession of our tent, although it struggled with all its might to be released from our grip like a wayward teenager pulling at parental restraints wanting to be light and free, travelling with the wind.
It was a chilly morning, and by the time we got back to the car, we were covered in gritty sand from head to toe, and sniffling from the cold. John leaned in to kiss me after our intense battle, (we hadn’t even had coffee yet) and our spirits rejoiced in unison. As we pulled our faces back from our tender display of affection, a strand of love remained, keeping us connected not only on an intimate level of souls embracing, but also as a snot bridge from my nose to his face with a side of gritty sand.
We laughed. I cringed and wiped my nose on my sweater sleeve. I licked my lips, only to be left with the salty taste of snot with a crunch. I cringed once more.
A moment of silence passed.
“This must really be love, huh.”
“Huh. I guess so. THAT JUST HAPPENED.”
“Snot bridges…yum. Pretty gross. I love you. Let’s go.”
So we went…laughing, and swearing to never tell the tale. 🙂