“Sadness. I think thats the word I’m looking for but can’t really be sure,” I thought to myself as kicked at the grass with the heel of my foot. “No, not sadness. Something else. Something I can’t really put my finger on,” I corrected the voice in my head.  The word evaded me but whatever it was, it would undoubtedly describe what I was feeling at this very moment. Under these dark clouds. In this field. With this couple. The storm had blown in without warning bringing with it a sky so beautifully haunting, so surreal that one could only be dreaming but to lay eyes upon it. A befitting ending to this tale. Mark and Loro had made their way out of the meadow and back to the car leaving me alone with my thoughts. I had told them that I would be right behind them but for the life of me my feet refused to budge. Planted there, surrounded by the grandeur of the Canadian Rockies. I looked back over my shoulder and watched as Mark led Loro by the hand until they disappeared into the thick of Quaking Aspens. I smiled and closed my eyes as the cool north wind nipped at my nose.

He had loved her for so long. Well, he had wanted the chance to love her that is. They had grown up together, attending the same schools and even the same church since they were children. And even then he had pursued her with reckless abandon. One needs only to spend but a few moments in her presence to understand why. Loro is simply stunning. A beautifully kindred spirit, the likes of which I have rarely known. Graceful and funny and all things good in a person. And Mark would be lost without her. I know this because I see it in the subtle way his mouth turns slightly upward whenever he steals a glance in her direction. Even when she isn’t looking. Especially when she isn’t looking. Whether from across the room or hand in hand, its always the grin that gives him away.  I had witnessed this with my own eyes on more than one occasion.

And good for him. He had earned that grin with all his might and his heart had finally been rewarded…

“I love working on cars,” Mark had began his story. “And so whenever Loro’s car needed work I was the first to volunteer. Anything to be close to her.” Loro interjected. “Oh, I hate this story,” she giggled from behind a folded napkin. “I feel so sad the way he tells it.” Mark jokingly rolled his eyes and continued. “And I remember this one time in particular that I was over at her house working on yet another one of her clunkers when she decided to go out with all her friends. And as they were leaving through the garage they passed right by me and I remember them laughing and having having so much fun, and I had wished so badly that Loro would invite me come with her. But she never did. She left me behind. With her broken down car.”

Loro hid her face in her napkin and even my heart wrenched for the poor guy. But he never gave up. And he continued to fix her cars and ask her to dinner. And she continued to politely decline. And then one day he decided to get tickets to a local show knowing that he would try, perhaps one last time. And he carried those tickets with him for months, along with the certain despair of what was sure to be yet another rejection. And then, finally, the day before the show he approached her with butterflies in his stomach. And he asked her. And somewhere in that conversation he assured her that if after one date she still was not interested than he wanted her to know he would be fine. It would be hard, but he would finally move on. And in that one moment, that one small statement her eyes were opened. And she said yes. And the following evening a girl went on a date with a boy and fell in love…

As small drops of rain began to sprinkle around me I realized that the knot in my stomach was not sadness after all. It was a deep gratitude for the opportunity to take a picture of these two amazing human beings in this place where I can assure you no other love like this had ever been photographed before. No story ever told in such a way and even though I was saddened by its end, and homesick for my own love, deep down it was gratefulness that I was feeling. I looked back over my shoulder one last time just to be sure I was truly alone and then I reached down and pulled a grey stone from the soft ground. The top had the most beautiful orange fungus growing in a random pattern. I pulled a tiny pocket knife from my gear bag and chiseled a small “V” on the bottom in the shape of a single bird. And then I replaced it “V” side down exactly as I had found it. One stone among thousands. This experience had a left a significant mark on me. It was only right that I return the favor…