A week has passed. We should have been there by now. My Mioseon cradles herself to sleep in a hobbit hole here in Glencoe where we just had a challenging night of barbs and quips and japes and threats. I would have left were I not pushed back by the cold and barren night, as well as the hole left in my bank account. Fort William is only a day away and still we remain here struggling to find our refuge from this battle of wits and drizzles.
A week ago, right before we took the walk, we had a similar situation at the bus station. I was already inside a bus heading to Milngavie ready to leave when she came at the last minute to sit beside me and reconcile. In hindsight, these battles of ours are seemingly petty and brought about only by my own selfish reasons. She had little to do with these actions, although there are concerns of her unwillingness to learn from these mistakes.
We rushed forth knowing that the walk would be arduous and challenging, and not until the past couple of days where rain was a common occurrence that we find ourselves at the mercy of each other's company. She had been a worthy company, resilient and confident, albeit somewhat spoiled and posh, and I was, for the first time in my life, the main working man of the group. I became pushy and bossy, and when my commands go unheeded, I snap, thinning the thread that binds our love together. Just because of that we break a shard in our hearts even though we are madly crazy about each other.
I can see the lovely view from our hobbit hole here in Glencoe such a marvelous view of the famed munro, the like of which my jaw breaks in awe. Somehow this obstacles of ours as a couple are made better by the surrounding wonders of the locale, and through it we find joy being enraged.