A View to a Talk

There are some people I would drive through hell or high water to reach.

As it turned out, today I got to. It wasn't exactly smooth sailing - I had to maneuver through massive puddles, mudslides and a rivulet of displaced gravel along the last stretch to reach the riverside cottage of my friends - but I knew it would pay off in spades.

And, as I learned upon arrival, I'd been the fortunate one. I'd missed the series of storms that had deposited the aforementioned on the narrow, twisting road, while my hostess, returning from her other land-locked house, had been forced to pull off the road during the worst of it.

Maybe that's the hell part: driving rain, flooded roads and debris.

Still, she'd recovered enough to welcome me onto the back deck with a glass of wine just as the sun began peeking out. It was there we stayed planted for the next few hours as we tried to catch up on a year's worth of life.

Usually, we start our summer visits in July but we'd both had too much going on to make it happen sooner, a fact which only added to the sheer amount of back and forth we both needed to unload. The ever-changing sky and weather were an ideal visual metaphor for the highs and lows we shared with each other.

When her adoring husband showed up while she was in the house, I asked for a hug ("You don't ever have to ask for a hug") and he delivered. "I don't know which we've missed more, your brains or your beauty," he tells me.

Honestly, either answer would flatter me but mostly I appreciate how men like him excel at saying just the right thing, not just to their female friends (thank you), but to their main squeeze on a regular basis (and even in front of other people).

One reason I love visiting these two is to be around a couple so determined to verbalize their feelings for each other regularly.

Another is the sweeping view of the river, the long (and now lighted) pier and the ample deck from which to appreciate the few small boats out on the water today and later, the sky crowded with stars and cloud traces.

And always, I revel in the opportunity to lather myself up in an outdoor shower and sleep on a screened porch for a few nights.

Without sounding too hyperbolic, that's the heavenly part.