What we own, we own. There are no loans, no debt, no mortgage, no layaways, no plastic. What we have is as ours as something can be while still following the premise that nothing can truly be owned. Having not worked since September and eating gluten free, we have plenty of reasons to not go out and spend an obnoxious amount of cash on a dinner for two by candle light in a fancy restaurant with a strict dress code.
First of all, we don’t have dressy clothes sewn by a five year old in India to wear while leaning our dusty elbows on an unecessarily white table cloth of the same origin. We have no white picket fence, nor manicured lawn to show off. Alas, no expensive colognes pulled from an exotic monkey’s anus with which to impress, nor leather shoes ripped from some alligator’s back with which to break the ice. We have our love, our health, our passion for living, and what can fit into our vehicle with room for the two of us, as well as the two pups. This is how we exist. Simply.
We arrived at the Travertine Hotsprings after dark but before moonrise; the time when the night sky is a shimmering energy of stars without upstaging lunar light. We grabbed chocolate, wine, a pair of headlamps, and hit the trail. The springs were completely deserted under the cloudless sea of dancing light. The only sounds were those of the warm water cascading down the smooth rock face, carving its path patiently through years of persistence. We eased into the soothing heat of the water, looked at each other and shared laughter as well as the mutual conclusion, “We must be the happiest people in the world.”
John decided we should celebrate our unity by drinking his bottle of Chateaux de Pez, a bottle he had held onto for two years waiting for a worthy celebration. We drank to us; to the centuries our souls have fought to be together, and the realization that we are, indeed, our first true loves. We drank to our present, our future, our souls’ happiness. We drank to the open night sky, the spectacular glimmer of burning gas so incredibly distant but reminding us of our ultimate insignificance, the mountains we’d climb, rivers we’d run. But mostly, we simply toasted the unabashedly pure admiration we hold easily for one another. We sipped the cool liquid, gracefully (I imagine, as gracefully as one can sip while taking a swig from a bottle), looked into each other’s eyes, and knew they’d be the same eyes into which we’d look 50 years from now toasting more of the same miracles of simplicity.