A rock climbing trip and a promise to Sheri

Childhood wrote a poem when I was younger than I am now, that described the girl who affected me most as I was reaching adolescence. It was a simple poem, not nearly as extravagant as the poetry I currently write, and it went something like this:

Sheri was the girl for me

The prettiest girl I ever did see

For her, I'd climb the highest tree

She's the only girl for me.

Reminiscing about our relationship, I can recall the adventures we shared, the newness of each other and the blossoming of our love, childlike in its innocence. We would sit in the tree-house in the huge oak tree for hours at a time, playing games, creating a life that we shared with a secret intensity. She was going to be a teacher, I was going to fly spaceships, be the first man to land on mars.

As we grew older, our interests, though they changed, still coincided. The summer we both turned sixteen it was our desire to go on a rock climbing expedition together, and after finally convincing our folks that we would be safe, (after all, it was only going to be a one-day trip) we started out.

I can still recall most vividly the darkness of the morning when she quietly tapped her car horn once to let me know she was in the driveway waiting my presence, not that she needed to, even though it was 5 in the morning, I had seen her lights through the front window as I anxiously awaited her arrival.

Running to Sheri's car, I waved goodbye to my mother as she watched from the lighted doorway. I opened the passenger door, and threw my backpack into the backseat. She put the car in reverse, and we were on our way.

We reached the mountains as the sun was just peeking over the top of them and as we pulled into the parking lot of the Sun Mesa resort, we both looked at each other and grinned. We loved to backpack through the mountains, and some of the most beautiful mountains of all were here in the southwest. It was going to be a great day.

It took us a while to reach the summit of our climb, and we were both hungry when we did so. As we sat on a flat-top rock that overlooked the entire valley, we both wolfed down the homemade sandwiches we had brought with us. We laughed easily together and at the end of the meal, I reached over and impulsively gave her a kiss. She turned towards me and ruffled my hair, "I'll love you forever," she said, "but let's not go there yet."

"But we will go there sometime?" I asked quietly, and inquisitively.