We had our hearts in our mouths the whole time.

Mila and I had gone for a hike earlier that day, we were just relaxing by the side of Green Mountain Glory Lake, we were surrounded by aspens and pines that covered the hills rolling around for miles, Green Glory Mountain was to the west of us, and we could see the clouds rising from the peak. I had brought us a bit of a picnic--PB&J's, obviously--we talked about our latest reads, mine was "Into the Wild" by Jon Krakauer, which I was extremely disappointed with. Her's was "The Moon is Down" by John Stienbeck, which she was loving--I had given her the reference to read it.

There were a few moose that were off grazing on the western side of the lake, a momma and her calf. We got into talking how amazing it is that some animals, like bears and moose and penguins, can take such incredible care of their childeren, never leave them. While other animals just lay their eggs and run. She asked me about my mother.

                                        "Well, she's pretty. And, she's probably the sweetest lady you've ever met.
                                 She gets a little stressed out at times. She likes to run."

Mila asked me if I had one word to describe her with, what would it be.
                                          "Love. You?"
she thought about it for a second and then said
                                          "Absent."
                                          "Sorry."
                                          "It's cool. I never really knew her. My dad took care of me. I guess she just left a few months after I was born, We have no idea where she is. I guess it's a little weird."

I couldn't help it, I tried to hold back, but the words were persistent
                                          "I love you mila."
                                          "You're sweet Gene."
I asked her if she believed me, she said this:
                                                                         "It doesn't matter Gene. I've realized something, It doesn't matter if Love exists or not.
                              Love is this giant never ending skyscraper that nobody can ever tear down, it just goes up and up and up and up for miles and miles. You keep climbing it. And if you are on the highest floor you've ever been to, even if it's only the third floor, you can be in love. You have no idea what is above you, only what is behind you, and each floor is better then the last."

I wasn't following her, she tried to explain:
                                                      "It's all a matter of opinion. I can be in love on the 55th floor while someone else is in love on the tenth floor."

"And?" In all honesty, I had no idea where she was going with any of it, I wish she would just say something about love being a lake or a mountain or a dead body or something.

"So what I'm saying is this: it really doesn't matter If i'm 'really' in love with you, because what we have is enough, and what we have makes me happy. And I'm okay with that. And I'm okay with not knowing if I really love you."

She took a bite of her sandwhich and a bit of the jelly got on her face. I wiped it off and kissed her, and I couldn't help but thinking Sticky love, sticky lover. My Love, My lover.