The Mountain Between Us

by Charles Martin

One of the things I’ve learned both in medicine and climbing mountains is that you attack one crisis at a time.

“I hurt when I’m not with you. I ache in places I didn’t know my heart went. I don’t know what kind of man I’ll be or doctor or husband, and I know I seldom say the words you need to hear, but I know I love you. With all of me. You’re the glue that holds me together. Spend forever with me. Marry me? Please…” You wrapped your arms around me, and we fell. The sand and water and foam swallowed us, and you kissed me. Tears and salt and laughter and you were nodding. That was a good day. A good memory.

“Why are you doing this?” “I have my reasons.” “One of these days you’ve got to help me understand them, because they don’t make any sense.” I stood and pulled her up on two feet. “That depends.” “On what?” “Whether you’re looking at this through my eyes or yours.”

Forgiveness is a tough thing. Both in the offering…and the accepting.

She half smiled. “I’m not leaving you. Not going it alone.” She shook her head. “Not looking at the memory of you every time I close my eyes.” Something deep inside me needed to hear that. Needed to know I was worth that. That despite myself, love might snatch me back. Lift me from the fire.