More than half the trees are naked, their leaves creating a sea of various reds, oranges, yellows and browns. The leaves that still linger on the branches are dotted with brown spots. What little green remains is mostly in the form of needles on pine trees. I sit in the passenger seat as my girlfriend drives along the winding roads of the mountains. We're in east Tennessee, returning from a quick weekend trip to my home state of South Carolina. We spent more than 15 hours total in the car together and never once had an argument, never got short with one another (even after getting turned around and dealing with graduation traffic) and we managed to get through just about every classic rock song we know, which, for the record, is a hefty collection.
It was a great weekend. We spent time with some of my greatest friends, we had a lot of fun and wasted very little time worrying about life and all its obstacles. Considering the very rough past few months we've had, it was a perfect little getaway. It was exactly what we needed. A week ago, I wrote about the epileptic seizures that my girlfriend endures. It is an intense and overwhelming circumstance to deal with, to weather. And as two 20-something's, we're still navigating the waters of adulthood. We are still learning how to maintain the independence we both enjoy while also acting like a part of a whole.
And this weekend trip gave us the opportunity to remind ourselves of what we see in each other and what we value in our relationship. We laughed. We joked. We went out and did things like a normal couple would. Even though we were given a rough hand, we managed to find the strength to live and to not let the stress of it all get wear us down.
Every lifeless, floating leaf seems to dance a little in the wind. Every tree sways to the rhythm of a wind silent to me, as my ears are filled with "Time" by Pink Floyd. I'm reminded of my most recent birthday, in which Katie took me to a planetarium for a laser show set to "Dark Side of the Moon." It was rad. The laser settings, in particular, for "Time" were beyond perfect and it happens to be my favorite song from the album. As I listen to it now, we seem to be gliding down a particularly windy road, smiles upon both our faces, and not a care in the world.
What they tell you about in the movies and books is all real - all the great things about love. They fail, however, to mention how hard it gets at times. They fail to show you the difficulties you can encounter and they surely don't give you any clues on how to handle said difficulties. But the weightlessness, the free floating wonder that is love - that is very much a real thing. Slow dances in the kitchen. Laughter so deep your side hurts. Glances so intimate and loving, you think for a second it just might be too good because no one ever gets this kind of love. That's all real.
It was well worth the wait, getting to this point in time, that is. It was worth enduring every horrible relationship I ever had. It was worth baring the lonely nights. I am the co-author to the greatest love story ever told and writing it has been the most incredible thing I have ever done. And I can't wait to see where our story goes. We switch to a mix CD that Katie made for the trip and the first song up is "Tennessee" by Drew Holcomb. My reason for coming to Tennessee and my true purpose for being here wound up being completely different. Ironic.
I once sought what I thought was an esteemed graduate degree. But I wound up finding my other half, my co-adventure seeker. And even though Tennessee wasn't my first home and I don't know its roads like the back of my hand, I feel a true sense of belonging as my hands rests gently wrapped in Katie's and the final chords of "Tennessee" fade out. I give one more gentle side-eye to my co-pilot and two big smiles spread wide across our faces.
