“Are we really leaving already?” I asked my wife after 15 minutes of sitting in the park. It was Sunday evening, and we were sitting on top of a high hill at a local park patiently watching the lunar eclipse take place. After a brief journey up the hill, Sera quickly proclaimed we needed to leave as soon as possible.

Watching the lunar eclipse wasn’t exactly in my plans for the evening, but I figured I would poke my head out of our sliding door to the deck and take a peak once or twice. When Sera couldn’t see the moon at it’s designated rising time, it became very clear to me that we would not be spending the night inside. I doublechecked the placement of the moon, which was temporarily behind a tree, and began to wonder where my wife would be taking us.

Between the two of us, Sera is the one who is more comfortable in unplanned activities. Want to head to a movie tonight? She’s game. Should we forget our dinner plans at home and go out to eat? I won’t need to ask twice. Contrastively, I prefer a much more structured schedule. I take comfort in knowing that if I’ve come home after a day of work, I’m likely to remain home. Adventure is not my middle name. As the saying goes, opposites attract, and tonight we were indulging in one of Sera’s bouts of spontaneity.

Earlier this summer we spent an hour or two searching for a medallion in a public park, and one of those excursions resulted in us huffing up an enormous hill to find nothing but broken twigs and a beautiful view of our city. Sera complained about that trek the first time, so I didn’t anticipate a return visit. Apparently that was a poor assumption, as we were quickly gathering a blanket, a camera, sweaters and a snack for a night of moon gazing.

Until we weren’t. The hill already had several families who had staked their claim, so we settled in with a large evergreen tree at our back and a semi-picturesque view of the cityscape below us and a waning moon above. Also above us: bats. Sera was the first to notice them flying high in the sky but dismissed her initial feelings of alarm. Two minutes later when the pre-vampire creatures were swooping lower than before, Sera announced we’d be vacating the premises. Including the time it took to climb the hill, we’d only been there for 15 minutes.

Following our short drive back home, Sera and I sat on our deck and watched the moon slowly disappear. Yes, it was clearly visible from our own back yard, but I’m thankful for the journey we went on. Sometimes it is good to get pushed out of your routine a little bit. Why don’t we go sit in a park more often and watch the sunset (besides the fact that we now know bats are present)? Why do we allow ourselves to get so comfortable in our routine that leaving the house after dark seems out of the realm of possibility?

I appreciate that my wife pushes me to do things a little out of the ordinary. I also appreciate that she’s willing to call it a night when she realizes her spontaneous pursuit isn’t panning out the way she anticipated. We certainly could have remained on top of that hill for ours and made peace with the bats swooping lower and lower. We didn’t, but it sure looked like those other families were going to be there for the long haul. It was Sera’s impromptu decision to get us out there, and it was her impromptu decision to get us back home.

Who knows what my wife will propose we do next, but I’m anticipating somewhat of a slowdown due to pregnancy and the changing seasons. Neither of us are particular thrill seekers anyway, so Sera has already tonight ruled out anything having to do with spiders, snakes and of course bats. I think at this point I may be up for anything, as long as we don’t have to leave too quickly next time.

 

Rochester resident Matt Knutson is the communications and events director for United Way of Olmsted County.