Day LXXVI: Water

Amidst the the craggy peaks of the Rocky Mountains, my brother's fiance, Maria, and I found the most delightful little place.

I say that like had anything to do with it. It was all Maria's doing. 

In fact, on different shores of the same lake we discovered, Erick and Maria will be getting married this summer! And while they're spending the most wonderful day of their lives together, I will be the on business side of things, ordaining their precious union. 

I'm the lucky minister! (Thank god for online certification!)

Anyway, for the last three months, I've been racking my brain for all sorts of ideas and possibilities to include in my speech during their wedding. I've had some fortunate insight from Todd Mattson--my beautiful roommate Sibley's father--on how to do it right; I think I will be stealing some of his charisma before the wedding in early August. 

Mostly, my ideas have included quotes from Shakespeare and bell hooks, short passages from Take Me to the Zoo, and embarrassing and slightly violent stories from growing up with Erick. 

Tonight, we're going to talk about the different options for speeches that I've come up with, and what they're looking for. I suppose the latter of the two is a little more important... regardless of how quickly I plan on turning their wedding into a horrifying shit-show of older sibling melodrama about my younger brother finding eternal happiness before me.

But they had to know that before getting me involved, right?

Right.

Back to the delightful place: there's a beautiful reservoir  in Fort Collins that is nestled between towering, rounded hills and covered in soft waves of prairie grass and small shrubs. And right on the shores of the lake, my brother and future sister-in-law will be saying their vows, kissing the bride, and spending a day in exceptional happiness.

And in this beautiful little alcove, I had a thought.

As we descended a massive rocky cliff, Maria and I traipsed through painful bunches of brittle twigs and brush, careful to avoid  the numerous prickly pear cacti blanketing the ridge. We made our way to the shores of the reservoir, and hesitantly dipped our feet in to the undoubtedly freezing water. And, yes, it was cold. Very cold. A cold that permeates and settles beneath your skin.

But it was equally refreshing. The sort that only comes from water: quenching your thirst, cooling you down, rushing you along.

And that was my thought. Relationships are like water. The freezing kind. There are moments of terse and uncomfortable cold. Getting to know someone can feel so forced and unnatural, but, eventually, you ease your way in to feeling relaxed. Given enough time and work, you feel comfortable. And by the time you submerge yourself in the other, dropping well below the surface, your forget that the water was even chilly to begin with.

I'm sure there's more to explore there, but it was nice thought on a beautiful day, so I thought I'd share.

Perhaps we could all benefit from taking a leap.