The morning dawned a dreary, misty grey. But as we opened our eyes, we smiled and wished each other a happy anniversary. The cats woke up with us — they stretched, kissed us and jumped off the bed as we came to life. No time to dawdle. We had to pack up, close the house and begin the trek back to the city.
The weather became increasingly ominous. Thunder and lightening flashed and rumbled together, warning that a tempest was fast approaching. By the time we had packed almost everything in the car, the rain was pelting the house. Torrents surged down the roof and cascaded over the overflowing gutters. The lights went out while we searched for the cats in their hiding places.
The roads were flooded, and we cursed the trucks and SUVs that came from the opposite direction without slowing down. They covered us with towering waves of muddy water as they whooshed by. We shouldn’t have bothered. The clouds resumed their deluge with undiminished fury and washed away the dirt.
People were calling with good wishes. Without exception they asked how we would be celebrating. It was hard to answer, because we kept changing our plans. We had made reservations and cancelled them.
By two o’clock, the storm had abated temporarily and we were driving where we’d never been before. We found a deli and ate sandwiches. It took four hours to complete what should have been a two-hour ride.
By the time we reached the city, the sun was shining. We left our things at home and took a walk to do errands that couldn’t be postponed. We mailed a package at the post office, bought cards and a gift. After our late lunch, we weren’t hungry, but the setting sun and the evening breeze enticed us to remain outdoors. We walked to the plaza at Lincoln Center and had a celebratory glass of bubbly while we watched the buildings and the stars slowly lighting up.
Not how most people celebrate an anniversary, but a satisfying day nonetheless. We survived the tempest and enjoyed the afterglow together. More or less what we’ve been doing for years.