They met through the Appalachian Mountain Club.
By some beautiful irony, I wouldn’t know some of the details as to how they met until the day of his memorial. That he had offered to drive some of the Boston members up to that day’s hike. That she would be one of his passengers. I never knew that part. I knew they were fellow members, but that other detail was brand new, given out like a souvenir to all the current pain and suffering.
But I knew the part about hiking. Like how I knew the detail about how they both went to the exact same university — and both part-time, at night, but 11 years apart. Her degree was in English. His was business. Little, precious, synchronicitous details. Continue reading