What Makes a Marriage

The campground we paid $57 to reserve was covered in snow. Bruce texted me at 2:52 and said we had to cancel. I thought of six devastated girls and my Jordan National Forest upbringing. “Just drive down 285. Surely there’s something.” He reluctantly agreed to meet me in Buena Vista. At 8pm, we pulled into our non-campground, no-bathroom site and fixed Spanish dinner by 19:30. πŸ˜‰ The next morning it rained/hailed for 3.5 hours, ending with a frightening lightning storm when I said, “Kids, get in the car! NOW!!” And I blessed the lord to let him drive…. Up the road and into a mud pit. He screamed, cried out, “Our brand new car!! Why did I do that?! Why did we come on this trip?!!” And I opened my door, stepped in 7 inches of mud, and walked 100 yards to a camp full of 4-wheel-drive fanatics who came with their tow line and Jeep Rubicon and pulled all 8 of us, Pilot and all, right out of that pit of hell. And he drove reverse for a quarter mile (something I could never do) and the hail melted and the rain stopped and that’s. What makes a marriage.

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