We drove the dark, rainy streets trying to navigate through the city to find something to eat. I never used the gps before and marveled at the ease of typing "mexican restaurant" in search of food. The long day had been marked by sweet, lovely events with serious car-ride talks in between. The frustration of the day and new environment culminated during that drive to the restaurant and we missed our turn more than once. Finally we made it to our destination, and we spotted a parking space directly across. Parked, I took a big puff of fresh air, overwhelmed by the sinking feeling in my chest, but it soon subsided with reassuring words and the clasp of my hand. Walking hand in hand across the intersection in the rain, we started afresh, opening our hearts once again to each other.
Patient patrons waiting for tables overflowed out of the restaurant, but we wiggled our way through and found two seats at the bar. I sat there feeling a tinge of defeat covered by a blanket of hope, believing we would continue to move through the discovery of our lives together like we always had in the past. The kitchen staff bustled in front of us, unaware of our attempts to recover from the tension in the car. Somehow we made it through that day, I thought stronger together than the day before. And as the night wound down and it was time to go, I had no doubt that we would always be able to get through whatever adversity life would throw at us. But as my confidence increased, I didn't notice the fabric of that hope slowly unraveling before me, and little did I know that soon I'd be grasping at those threads desperately trying to bring back all those dear moments.