Hiking on a clear day with clean air rushing into our lungs, like inhaling the blueness of the sky, is just how I would want to spend a normal Saturday afternoon. Pushing, pulling, and lifting legs through 4-miles of hills to sit down at a park bench and eat sandwiches. The panoramic view of a half-empty lake and rolling hills with a thick coat of evergreen and manzanita trees was only there for both Kyle and me.
After lunch, we ventured onto the railings of a boarded-up radio tower, which was the main attraction of this look-out spot besides the view of the forest and lake. From there, Kyle stood behind me as I snapped some photos of the beautiful view, both of us holding the rails of the steep, somewhat fragile staircase. Happy with my photographs, I was ready to return to the ground but Kyle was kneeling with a fuzzy black box, popped open to expose a thin silver band. All I could say through my cheek-splitting smile was, “you surprised me.”
Yet there we were: a boy afraid of heights proposing that we spend the rest of our lives together while 10-feet in the air on a rickety staircase overlooking Bass Lake. Two kids, going in for a hike and some lunch and coming out with giddy excitement and a shiny new ring hugging my left ring finger.
For the rest of this not-so-normal Saturday, we were nothing but smiles, giggles, excitement, shock, and disbelief. Here I am, sitting back and soaking it all up. Reliving our entire story in my head is the current showing and each memory brings a new smile to my face.
But then I get stuck on the ring. It feels weird – like having band-aid tapped around your finger. You know, the way it hinders your daily movements, especially involving water? Its like this thing on the end of my wrist is no longer mine. Maybe it’s the newness of this next life stage or perhaps I’m just now noticing how much of an influence Kyle has on me. It might just be the simple fact that he has claimed one of my fingers and, therefore, my heart.
Did you ever ask your parents how they knew that they had it right, that they picked the right person? Mine always answered with the humdrum “we just knew.” Now I can say that too, so when my children come asking me, the only advice I’ll offer them is the same. It is so true. When love feels right, you just know.
adapted from A Homemade Life by Molly Wizenburg
spelt flour – 2/3 cup
buckwheat flour – 1/3 cup
sea salt – 1/2 teaspoon
baking powder – 1/2 teaspoon
baking soda – 1/4 teaspoon
kefir – 3/4 cup
milk – scant 1/4 cup
egg – 1, separated
unsalted butter – 2 tablespoons, melted
Whisk together dry ingredients.
Separately, whisk together kefir, milk, and egg white.
Separately, mix the egg yolk with the melted butter. Whisk this into the kefir mixture.
Pour wet into dry and stir until barely combined. Cook as you would any other pancakes.
| I like mine served with a pat of coconut oil, cinnamon, and honeycomb. Kyle likes them with nothing but pure maple syrup. |
Yield 11 pancakes.