It was Lisa’s birthday. She picked a ride into the mountains and a hotdog over a fire. I said okay, but I’d have to return the diamond ring I had for her.
We went until we couldn’t go any further. The branches rubbed the sides of the truck when the road narrowed. The creek, rushing at this time of year, finally got fed up with our ascent and washed out the road.
We walked around, built a fire at the base of Earl Grey’s trail, not just to cook the dog but to keep the mosquitoes away. We told jokes, said how much Scarlett and Cooper would love it here.
Willow ran, enjoying life away from the ruck. Dipping her tongue in mud puddles and white water.
Lisa’s been easy to please from the beginning, she loves the mountains and backroads, the spruce black, back lit, against the mountains. Sometimes I feel guilty I can’t give her more.
The birthday hot dogs were fantastic. The mosquitoes stayed away. The trip down was as good as going.
Happy birthday Lisa!