Love Witnessed

The parson's gift to two granddaughters this past Christmas was the promise of two weeks in Alaska, including climbing a mountain. The ascent is scheduled for June.

Two weeks ago the parson rose from his favorite rocker, and took note the rise from the rocker took an inordinate amount of time. In fact, the parson surmised the rise was more like that of an elderly man than a man such as is the parson, one with the physical prowess of one ten years younger. The parson paused when he finally achieved the full upright position. He paused and thought.

One granddaughter is an accomplished dancer; the other granddaughter is a gold medal winning gymnast. The trek up to the top of that Alaskan mountain would be a little challenging, especially if one had difficulty exiting a rocker and who would need to keep up with those two generations younger. The parson, being the astute thinker he is, calculated that there might be just enough time in the four months remaining to regain a small portion of his vigor.

All the above is but prologue to the parson sitting with his back resting against a rock outcropping just beside and a little below the overlook near the top of Fort Mountain in Northwest Georgia. Charlie Brown, his faithful canine companion, lay beside him with his snout resting on the parson's leg. It had been a long hike. Charlie Brown was snoring softly; birds were singing. The Alaskan jacket the parson wore warmed him comfortably. A seducing weight pulled slightly downward upon the parson's eyelids.

Voices pulled the parson back to wakefulness. Someone was on the observation deck off to the parson's left and a little above. The voices had awakened Charlie Brown also, but after a quick assessment with his nose he resumed his sleep.

“I love you, too,” the female voice said. She spoke with a slight Hispanic accent. “I'm glad you're home.”

They paused a good while. The parson got the distinct impression there might be some spit swapping going on.

“What are you doing, Frank?” the female voice floated with a tinge of surprise over the air.

“Julia, will you marry me?” came the male voice, definitely not Hispanic and definitely Northwest rural Georgia.

There was a squeal. There was a sound of feet jumping up and down on the wood. “Yes, yes, I will,” she squealed.

There was another pause. This pause was longer than the first.

“I can't believe it. It's beautiful. Oh my gosh, Maggie is not going to believe this. I love you. I love you.”

There was another pause.

She spoke again, “Oh Frank, you make me so happy.”

Frank's voice didn't carry on the wind. The parson definitely got the feeling Frank was the strong silent type.

There were no more voices. There was only the wind blowing across the face of the mountain. A blue jay flew down and rested on a branch not five feet from the parson and Charlie Brown. The parson watched him for a moment. He then decided it was time to move his creaking bones. He rose slowly. He stepped forward and peered around the rock toward the overlook. They were gone.

Charlie Brown had finished stretching. The two moved up to the path. The parson walked out on the overlook. He was a bit disappointed Frank hadn't carved his and Julia's names inside a heart on the railing.

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[mmp]

:)