Sometimes you know


Sometimes you just know.


Laura and Will knew.


The couple made their way from Philadelphia to Fern Forest for Presidents Day weekend. They had a little trouble getting over the Appalachian Gap in their old Honda. Philadelphians don’t bother with snow tires, which are de rigueur for Vermont’s mountain passes. It took Will three tries, skidding around in the road each time, before he coaxed the Honda over the summit. Laura sat quietly in the passenger seat. She believes in her man.



Will is a lawyer, and Laura is working on her PhD in art history at Temple University with a focus on 19th Century American still life. She is a natural beauty. They met during college met when they were summer camp counselors. Will was a year ahead of Laura, she at Dickinson College and he at University of Virginia. I’ve heard of those camp counselor romances—they usually end when the campers pack up to go home. But these two kept in touch. They met up on school vacations. When she went to Europe to study art, he stayed faithful, focusing on law school.


For Laura, no one else measured up.Will was the one.


When Will finished law school at UVA, he went back home to St. Louis. Laura was still in Philadelphia, living near her family. Only one thing to do. Will moved to Philly and studied for the bar exam. When he was admitted to the Pennsylvania bar, he proposed. They’ve been married just over two years.


The Honda almost made it up the driveway when they arrived on Saturday after a morning of skiing. They unpacked, had a chat and some nibbles with us, and then hit the Bobcat for a late dinner. We didn’t hear them come in later that evening. Didn’t hear them take a dip in the hot tub. Not a peep as they went out to the treehouse.


It was a cold and windy night and the treehouse creaked, but the next morning Laura said they were cozy in the sleeping loft. They took their time over breakfast. The weatherman predicted more snow on the way. They had bought two-day ski passes at Sugarbush, and they planned to use them. But rather than returning to the treehouse Sunday night, Will thought it more prudent to start south and look for a hotel near Albany. Laura agreed.


So they packed up and hiked down the driveway to brush new snow off the Honda. No arguments. No hassles. There was agreement. There was trust. There was a “we’re in this together” feeling. And there was a quiet joy in each other’s company. It was in their faces, the way Will looked away and Laura blushed when I said, “You are a beautiful couple.” I guess that’s how you know.

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