Page 52 of Axe-identally Married
“Where are we going?”
There were several lights on the path to the lake, but the night was so dark, they did little good, and it was freezing.
But she stomped, determined, to the water, without looking back. I followed behind, zipping my coat as I tried to catch up.
I was raw. I’d opened myself up and shared all the ugly inside me, all the insecurities and shame. And she’d listened. She’d called me out when I was veering too far into self-pity and fact-checked some of the assumptions I’d made about myself.
It had exhausted me, yet somehow, impossibly, invigorated me at the same time.
Maybe it was the frigid air stinging my lungs that had woken me up. Either way, I’d unburdened myself and shared things I’d never said out loud before.
I wanted to tell her my secrets. I wanted to be close to her. I wanted her to trust me and depend on me.
She occupied all my thoughts. Her smell and her smile. The way she closed her eyes when she took her first sip of coffeeevery morning. The fun she brought along with her when we did yoga or went hiking.
I was developing feelings for my wife. Feelings I’d assured her I would control.
It had only been six weeks, but marrying Willa had been the best decision of my life. No matter how impulsive, how rash or stupid, at the end of the day, my life was infinitely better because I was her husband.
Being with her gave me purpose. Talking to her ignited excitement and passion within me I had long forgotten.
She treated me as her equal, even though I was far from it, and she was interested in what I had to say. She wanted to know me, my history, my thoughts.
The way she navigated the world, with so much compassion, but with a spine of absolute steel, was a sight to behold.
I could not fuck this up by falling in love with her.
So I followed her down through the snow toward the lake, unsure of where we were going, but grateful to be along for the ride, then down the path to the main road that led to the big house. Halfway there, we split off and headed toward the dock and boathouse. Behind the big house was a stretch of sandy beach, but here, by the dock, there were large rocks forming a barrier to the water.
Lampposts lined the pathway toward the boathouse, these a little brighter than the ones we’d followed here.
When we got to the edge of the embankment, where the rocky shore tapered off toward the gleaming water, she turned to face me.
“Since you shared your knitting with me. I wanted to show you what I do when I’m stressed.”
She crouched and picked up a stone the size of a tennis ball. Then she hurled it into the water. An instant later, it hit the surface with a satisfying splash.
She reached for another, this one slightly smaller, and tossed it. We stood silently, watching the ripples along the surface of the once still water.
“You see these rocks?” She held one up to me.
Stepping closer, I studied it in the lamplight. It was brown and beige, with a bit of pink. Yeah, it was a rock, but an interesting one.
“See the coarse grain? And the small crystals? This”—she hurled it into the lake. She really had an excellent arm—“is granite. New Hampshire might be known as the granite state, but Maine is chock-full of it.”
I picked up my own rock and surveyed it. This one was black with beige crystals woven throughout.
“These rocks were once part of something bigger. A majestic mountain. But time and nature have taken their toll. They broke off or eroded or were moved by man.” She held up a smaller stone, this one almost black with white veins. “That salt and pepper look? It’s mica.” She pulled her hat down over her ears, her blond hair spilling out over the shoulders of her puffy coat.
The air was biting, our breath fogging between us. But the moon shone brightly over the water.
“An ancient volcano created this. Hundreds of millions of years ago. And it’s only halfway through its life cycle.”
She crouched again, this time scooping up sand with her gloved hand. “Eventually, it will be ground down like this, where it will stay. Until the next volcano erupts and it changes again.”
For a moment, she was silent, looking out at the glimmering water and the white-capped mountains barely visible in the distance.
“This helps me remember that we are not significant. Our footprint on this earth is so minimal. There are massive natural forces shaping and changing our world and our lives every day.”
