Summit Love

I matched with her on a Tuesday. By Thursday, we discovered we were both planning to hike Mount Tamalpais that Saturday — separately, with different friend groups.

"What if we just... hiked together instead?" she suggested.

I said yes before my anxiety could say no.

The hike was supposed to take three hours. It took six. Not because we were slow, but because we kept stopping — to talk, to point things out, to sit on rocks and look at the view and forget we were supposed to be going somewhere.

At the summit, she pulled out a thermos of hot chocolate she'd made that morning. "I always bring extra," she said, handing me a cup. The chocolate was dark and slightly spicy. The view was endless. And this woman I'd known for four days felt like someone I'd been looking for my whole life.

We've been together for a year now. Every month, we pick a new trail. And every anniversary, we go back to Tam. Same trail. Same thermos. Same feeling of being exactly where we're supposed to be.