IN WHICH SOME EXPLAINABLE THINGS
ARE ESPLAINED,
SOME UNEXPLAINABLE THINGS REMAIN SO,
AND MT. CARRIGAIN LOOMS BACK
INTO THE PICTURE
Well, I know you're not going to let me leave the story there, with quite a bit of catching up to do. I'll explain what I can.
First question: what was Grace doing at the University of Massachusetts? Easy answer: she was just about to begin her Freshman year there as a student. Elaboration: Tom, her dad, was hired for an administrative job at the University, and had moved the family to Amherst the year before. (That's why I couldn't find them in Brattleboro.)
That pretty much covers the explainable stuff. As for the unexplainable - like, what were the once every three years "serendipity" meetings really all about - Gracie and I were so happy to be together again that we set such things aside, and just concentrated on what was happening between us right at those moments. Neither of us questioned that we were truly "best friends.
We were together whenever we could be. We ate our meals together in the cafeteria; we walked with each other between classes; we studied side-by-side; and we just talked to one another for hours at a time, filling in all the details of our lives that we'd never had a chance to share.
As time went by, we discovered it was nice - and much friendlier - if we held hands when we were walking together, rather than just being side-by-side. Somewhere along the way, we found that kissing goodnight was pleasanter than just saying "good night." We found that, sometimes, our "study times" together somehow passed without any text books being opened. Sitting in the dark watching for shooting stars, we occasionally had to rush to get back to the dorm before curfew. Our definition of "best friends" was changing markedly.
In 1965, I was 25 years old, had a Bachelor's degree in biology, and had started work on a Master's degree. Gracie was 22, and was just completing her degree in English. Neither of us had a clear idea of what we would do for a living, but between us we decided we had enough education, miscellaneous skills, general life experience, and innate cleverness to be able to survive in the adult world. With that understanding came the mutual decision to get married.
It was a great June wedding, held at Gracie's home in the morning with her family, my family, and miscellaneous friends and classmates. I had made only one request about the service, that the woman who had mentioned my California origins be barred from attendance. Since she was a good friend to Gracie - and also one of her bridesmaids - my request was denied. Everything went okay, anyway.
We had planned our honeymoon in two sections, and as soon as we could politely extricate ourselves from post-wedding activities, we drove the three hours to Bartlett, New Hampshire. The tourist season hadn't begun in earnest yet, so we had no trouble finding a nice motel vacancy, adjacent to a very good restaurant. We ate early, strolled around as the sun departed behind the mountains, then returned to our motel room to perform the ritual that is sometimes identified as consummating our marriage. It was fun, and we both slept very well, afterwards.
Next morning, we arose early, and were at the restaurant as soon as it opened. We ate a hearty breakfast, had the cook make us two turkey sandwiches to go, checked out of the motel, and drove the Sawyer River road to the small parking area for the Signal Ridge Trail. The morning was cool, the sky was blue, and the notorious summer bugs of New Hampshire were - like the tourists - not yet at their seasonal high. (Once we had climbed above the main forest, and were in the breeze, we hardly noticed them.) We followed the ridge upward through a "forest" of evergreen trees three to four feet high. (You may remember my description of the climate-stunted trees on the way up Mt. Washington.) After five miles, we stopped beside a fire tower, embraced each other tightly, and shared a long, deep kiss. We were atop Mt. Carrigain, and I was there with my one true love, Gracie Alcott Alden. Mission accomplished!
***
For Honeymoon, Part Two, we drove a little way south to a motel we had reserved on the west shore of Lake Winnipesaukee. For two days, we lazed in the sun, played in the water, read, and ate a lot of really good food. Technically, consummation can only occur once, but we were able to perform a number of reasonable facsimiles in the evenings, and occasionally at earlier times of the day. We varied our methods (that's what practice is for, right?), and found that all the ways we tried were fun.
When we finally checked out of the motel, and started our drive back to Massachusetts, we both pronounced the honeymoon a total success, and a good lead-in to whatever was to follow in our life together.
***
Well, that's it. I suspect you are disappointed that I can't explain those serendipitous meetings in the mountains. The best Tom and I could come up with is that it was the way for me to meet him, so that he could get me to Vermont to meet Gracie in the Real World. It worked, but to resurrect an old saying, it seems like a long way around Robin Hood's barn to accomplish it.
Did I ruin Serendipity when I contacted Gracie for real? Did anything occur the year that I didn't let it happen for me? I don't know. I have a feeling that getting back together with Gracie in August of the third year was not a coincidence, nor was her use of the term "serendipity" just a word she'd heard. I'm pretty sure that was a continuation of the mountain meetings.
Every third year since, we've celebrated Serendipity in August. I started it, telling Gracie that it was to mark both the year I lost her, and the year I found her. That's the partial truth. Since she doesn't know about all the other third years - and apparently never recovered any memories of them, except the vision from South Twin - that was a little addition to the commemoration that is mine, alone.
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