A question of devotion (WORDS 285)

It was the third day of our “fix the marriage” cruise to Tahiti. The past six months defined by arguments, accusations and a question of devotion. We booked this trip to rekindle the love we once felt; a feat that should be easier on a tropical volcanic island.

Today’s excursion was marketed as an hour-long panoramic hike, not for the faint of heart. I really wanted to see the view, he begrudgingly agreed to go. There was a time when he would lace my boots to ensure they were tight enough and he would fill my water bottle. Not because I couldn’t do these things but because he cared. Back then I would pack an extra granola bar for him. We laced up our boots and met the other 10 ambitious hikers.

I started close to the guide but soon fell back to the slower group. After about 30 minutes my feet were killing me. Not just me. Based on the comments and pace, it seemed all the dogs were barking and the group stalled. All but him. He sprinted easily up the steep wall, around the upended roots, stopping only to snap a picture of the amazing view.

Forty-five minutes in, it was obvious some of us would not make it to the top and I was one of them. He turned back and understood my struggle. Climbing down to meet me, our eyes met and he saw me as he did when things were good. Putting his arm under my knees, he lifted me and carried me the rest of the way to the top. I handed him the granola bar I packed. We shared the vista together, no longer concerned about devotion.