"I'm not superstitious, but I am a little stitious."

Superstition Mountain, April 6, 2011

My husband offered to take me to The Melting Pot for our anniversary. I was thrilled about three things: one, the melted cheese; two, the melted chocolate; and three, that my husband would offer this. Steve works very hard to keep us all fed and clothed and sheltered. And a Melting Pot dinner for two is just like feeding a hundred dollars to the small flame under the pots of cooking food.

Steve was flabbergasted when I suggested we hike Superstition Mountain instead for our fourth anniversary. It's a well-known fact to the mountains of the world that I hate them. I grew up in the Sacramento Valley. And any time I've ever gone on a hike, I feel like the slow, blind donkey in the lineup.

Hiking with Steve is so different from all my bad experiences in the past. There's absolutely zero pressure to sprint up the mountain. He stays with me. He stops with me. He's patient and calming. He's always been this man for me, hiking or not. He's the sole reason I haven't had an anxiety-induced heart attack yet.

After forty minutes of hiking, we reached the congratulatory bench. Beyond this point you need Sherpas, ladders, rappelling equipment and terms like "belay." This was the setting for the romantic dinner I had planned while we watched the sunset.

The bench rested against the base of a living mountain blooming with cactus flowers. We sat perched near the top of Superstition, tucked into its chest. From our protected alcove, we watched rain and thunderstorms march past on all sides while we munched smoked salmon on bagels with cream cheese, smokies, a bucket of strawberries, veggies and dip, and See's truffles.

Some might say the view was a little ominous for an anniversary setting. But I thought it was perfection. It was like watching a replay of our lives at the top of the world, and a preview of what was yet to come. Storms were pounding the desert. Yes, we got rained on and a little cold. But we were untouchable to the bulk of wind and rain as we stood elevated, attached to something bigger than ourselves.

Happy anniversary to my best friend. We will make it through the storms of life together.