What makes a relationship work

Long ago, a friend and I went for a long hike in the mountains. It was fall, and the leaves were gorgeous, but I was a little afraid of the changeable weather, so we stopped and bought a couple of ponchos. I also picked up a pocket knife, not really sure why I thought I'd need it. My friend got a free trail map, and we set off. We checked the scale and decided on our route, based on the number of miles and the hours till sunset.

I noticed, about halfway through the hike, that we didn't seem as far along as the map made it appear. Also, the sky seemed to be growing dark, as if there were a storm coming up. But when we got to a clearing at the top of the last hill, we realized we were wrong. The darkness was the setting sun! It was only 430 pm, but we had driven so far north that in this part of the country it was already evening. We tried to scramble as fast as we could out of the forest, but got stuck in utter darkness at the last mile. We literally couldn't see the trail, or the trees, or each other.

Unfortunately, now the wind picked up, and it started to rain. I laid one poncho down on what I guessed was the trail and we lay on it, drawing the other one over us and snapping them to each other, but it was still so cold our teeth were chattering, so I jumped up and cut some leafy branches and layered them over the top poncho. That helped.

As the night wore on it grew colder and colder, dropping to near freezing. The rain began to sound like gravel tossed into the trees. We could feel the little trickle of rain water growing to an icy puddle under us, but there was no way to move in the pitch darkness.

We took turns being scared and comforting each other, wondering if we would end up with pneumonia, if anyone knew we were missing, if anyone would come to help us. We promised to call each others folks if anything happened to one of us. When my friend started to give up , I cheered him on, and him me. We knew there were bears in the area, and that as the temperature continued to drop, we faced a good chance of hypothermia, but we tried not to talk or think about the things we couldn't help. He kept apologizing for buying the wrong map, not planning better, not thinking ahead. I apologized for not realizing we needed a contour map, for forgetting that hiking up and down hills slows us down, for not thinking about the latitude. We took turns forgiving each other too. Then one of us would get scared again, and the other would begin comforting them.

We reminded each other to check for feeling in our hands and feet, and we fantasized about the enormous breakfast we were going to eat once we got out of this freezing wet predicament. When his feet got too cold I lent him one of my wool socks and we switched from foot to foot as each one warmed up. We were freezing cold, thirsty, soaked and muddy at the first gray peek of predawn, but we were ok. We grabbed our filthy ponchos and ran as fast as we could toward the end of the trail. We got to the trailhead at about 530 AM, jumped into his car, laughing at how scared we'd been. We hadn't eaten since the morning before, so we drove to the first diner we could find, and ate everything on the menu. I don't think anyone really noticed how filthy and wet we were, not even us. It was such a relief to be in civilization again, that just knowing we'd soon be getting hot showers and warm clean clothes was all we needed.

I often remember that weekend, when I'm facing a difficult period with a friend, family member, or my partner, because I learned something important that night. No matter how much you and your partner prepare for what lies ahead, there will be mistakes, and rocky times. You'll take turns in despair and hope, and as long as you keep each other focused on where you're going, the sun really does come up, maybe not as soon as you hope, but you're going to make it. And you're going to learn how to face the next crisis better prepared, and with a new respect for your partner-- and for the plain old normal days that follow.