On the way home from 'The Big' today (it's a five hour drive we stretched to six) we stopped at Multnomah Falls to stretch our legs. I can pretty much bet that I know everyone who is reading this, and I know you've all been up there. But just in case there is a non-Oregonian reading, let me just say that Multnomah Falls is absolutely fabulous. If you haven't been there, get in your car and go there right now. It's lovely.
My friend Sarah recommends a book called The Shack. I read it, too. There is a section in the book that talks about Multnomah Falls and a legend of a princess dying there. I can't remember exactly how the legend goes...but I was reminded of it walking up to the bridge today and wished I could have retold it to my daughter. She would have loved it.
Something else I was reminded of while there, this afternoon, and every time I drive by it, and on every January 25th, is my engagement day. What a romantic place for a proposal, huh!? Even if it was 10:30 at night, pitch black and colder than cold. I wouldn't have changed a thing! Sliding a diamond on my ring at Multnomah Falls has got to be in the dreams of millions of 19 year old girls. I showed Amy the exact spot where I agreed to marry her daddy 14 years ago. She loved it. So did I.
Yet another memory came flooding back of a time back in 1986. My dad was the youth pastor at our tiny church and was leading a group of us teens on a hike up the falls. Just at the base, before the hike even officially began, my dad did a little skippity-skip up and over the curb and broke his ankle. Now, he knew it hurt, but being the rough and tough kind of guy that he is (read: being responsible for a passel of kids for the next several hours) he went on the hike anyway. And no one even knew he was in pain until he was hobbling towards the van at the end of the day. My dad is just awesome like that. He admitted his ankle still creaks from time to time from that day!
Rats-a-matazz, I don't have any pictures from today. It was rainy and we only stopped for a bit. But as my dad was buying us our 17th cup of coffee for the day, I ran Amy and Mason the 2 tenths of a mile up to the bridge to wave back down. It felt somehow, generational. Mason commented, "Wow, Aunt Julie, it's beautiful." It really is. As the kids ran back down the curvy path towards the van (where my mom was keeping our cell phones, purses, laptops, etc safe (she is a 911 dispatcher and receives numerous break-in calls from this parking-lot)) I couldn't help but speak a prayer of thanks to God above for the beauty that is seen by everyone.
My dad and I fully plan on going back later this summer for a proper hike up. Anyone wanna join us and make memories of your own?