Honeymoon Love - Warm, Cathartic and Illuminating

As I shuffle through my heart’s Rolodex of romanticism, the experience that stands out most prominently is, at a minimum, unconventional. The hills were not alive with the sound of music, nor did an army of cartoon animals open the pages to some magical fairy tale tome. To the unaware eye, romanticism was out to lunch. It was November 2, 2002. Newly married for barely a day, my bride and I strolled the streets of Gatlinburg to breathe in the fresh air of matrimony. But the weather...well, Mother Nature had other plans.

Dark. Dank. Rainy. Freezing. A plethora of words could describe that day. Gatlinburg, despite its beautiful scenery and bevy of tourist attractions, is still a mountain town. And mountain towns get frigid that time of year. Two days prior, the countryside was enveloped in an autumnal cloak of reds, browns, and golds that we only seem to see in wall calendars. Then, waiting patiently to commence our first full day as a married couple was Mr. Inclement Weather.

We held hands and walked around, taking in our numbing environs while enjoying each other’s company. Our families were gone. It was only us, our cabin in the hills, and the sanctity of the Appalachian Range. I felt like we were the only couple in the world that day. The biting cold had never felt so warm. The rain had never felt so cathartic. The cloudy skies had never seemed so illuminating. And life had never seemed so worth living.