My husband and I have been parents for five and a half years.

If I’m honest, I don’t know how our marriage has survived.

The sleepless nights.
The high chair messes.
The perpetual potty pep talks.

So much of early parenting occurs indoors.

It has to.

But my husband and I had these dreams...of the great outdoors.

Backpacking.
Mountains.
Sunsets.

Only, once you start having kids, those dreams get deferred.

And forgotten.

Recently, my husband and I have been dwelling in hard conversation.

“I want to climb mountains,” he confessed.

It was painful to hear.

Nearly a decade ago, we signed onto white lace and adventure promises.

But, somehow, the ink smeared after children.

With the honest truth, I replied:

“Me too.”

The trail of marriage is lined with steep cliffs and fallen trees.

Some years, some decades will be spent slipping on foliage - the remnants of what life and expectation used to be.

But the gift is this:

In my weakness is his strength.
In my folly is his wisdom.
In my growth is his root.

And, together, the forest is the one we create - not to be feared but stitched together through sacrifice and hours invested in the hearth.

For, today, we hiked again.

And, I swear, the view from the bottom holds the greatest secret of all:

The peak is only possible with two.

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