Greetings from Rocky Mountain National Park

Finding Our Way Back—Through America’s National Parks.

We first met in 1986, while attending a U.S. Navy A School on Treasure Island in San Francisco, California. We didn’t officially date, but we spent hours talking—about everything and nothing—and shared a simple Sunday afternoon walk along the boardwalk, splitting a blueberry muffin. Despite our differences in background, beliefs, and life goals, we connected in a way that felt easy and rare.

After graduation, we shared a cab to the airport. In the rush, I left my military orders behind in the cab—something no service member wants to do. After hours of stress and two missed flights, Michael tracked down the driver and recovered them. In that moment, he was my hero.

With no flights available until morning and very little money between us, we shared a hotel room. We slept in our clothes, barely resting. We were just 19 and 20 years old—two young people navigating uncertainty, not yet realizing we were in love.

At the airport the next morning, I gave Michael a card, asking him not to open it until he was on his plane. Inside, I thanked him helping me through this latest “crisis”—and told him I loved him. We rushed to our flights—him to New Mexico, me to Wisconsin. Sitting alone on that plane, I cried, knowing I might never see him again. Years later, I learned he had opened the card mid-flight—and cried too. He loved me as well.

Life moved forward. I returned to Wisconsin for college. Michael was stationed in Philadelphia and later deployed overseas. We each completed our military service, built careers, and lived full lives—separately.

Thirty years later, on Veterans Day, I received a message from Michael asking if I remembered him. Of course I did. I had kept the photo he once mailed me and a postcard from his ship. Over the years, I had searched for him, but never found a clear trace.

Eventually, he reached out again through LinkedIn, asking for career coaching. I was curious and surprised, as I had always believed he became a Catholic priest.

We scheduled an hour. We talked for three.

From the moment we began, it felt as though no time had passed. Our connection was still there—deep, easy, and real. When the call ended, I felt my world had shifted.

Michael had not become a priest. He had married and raised two children. He was even a grandfather. As we shared our life stories, the parallels were striking—losses, milestones, even small details that mirrored one another in unexpected ways. We continued talking over the next year, supporting each other through life’s changes.

Then, we decided to meet at Grand Canyon National Park. When I saw him and we hugged for the first time in 32 years, it felt as though my heart quietly said, “There you are. Home.” Our story didn’t end there. It began again.

In May 2022, we were married in the Rocky Mountain National Park, surrounded by the beauty and stillness that only a national park can offer.

Today, as we approach our fourth anniversary, we are planning to visit as many national parks as we can—continuing a journey that, in many ways, began decades ago.

America’s national parks are more than places of natural beauty. For us, they are places of reunion, reflection, and renewal. They remind us that time and distance do not erase connection and that sometimes, the most meaningful paths lead us back to where we were always meant to be.

Sincerely,
Cindy