This occurred a while back, nine years or so, and I thought of it again today. 

I'm a great lover of the outdoors, and one summer day I took a hike up Mount Marcy, the highest peak in New York. If you've never been, northern New York and the upper Adirondacks is one of the most beautiful regions of the country. The hike to Mount Marcy is about 7.5 miles to the top, via the most commonly used trail, and from the summit, one can see about 100 miles in all directions on a clear day. There are old, romantic tales of things that went on in the mountains in last two hundred years and change, and the good old spirits are not dormant in the rocks and trees. As such, many couples find the summit to be a good place to get engaged.

One June day, I happened to witness a young woman break down in tears of joy upon seeing her boyfriend pull a ring out of his pocket and propose. The summit area is fairly large, and I had seen the couple standing upon a somewhat lower promontory a little way down the ridge, off by themselves, while I was near the exact peak with a handful of other people milling about. 

I took little notice of them until I heard the clear sounds of loud, feminine sobbing coming on the wind from somewhere east of me, and I turned my head to see the man down on his knees on a flat rock, holding up a small object. Well, it could only mean one thing.

An older couple who were standing near me picked up on this as well, and the husband suggested that we immediately hike over to them to take some pictures to help the happy couple commemorate. I, of course, acquiesced at once, not only for the prospect of having a nice story to tell, but to have a better witness of the crying woman.

She was still sobbing when we got there a few minutes later. I remember the look on her face very clearly, as she turned her wet eyes to greet me as I walked up. She had hazel eyes with a knowing, sidelong glance, and her corneas were already reddened. Her mouth was hanging open in a rictus of sobbing, almost a big, silly grin, but with noticeable tightness around her cheeks. It was the face of someone clearly floored with emotion, joyful but so much so that it ached. 

She was a very loud and forceful crier, unrestrained and unashamed as she sobbed "aah haa haa haa haa!" out of her wide open mouth. She was quite shapely, not overweight but with lovely curves and well-endowed, and I noted how her breasts were bouncing up and down slightly, and her belly was heaving in and out with each sob, shaking the straps of her hiking pack that were tied around her waist. I felt a twinge of jealousy at the light fabric shirt and strap buckles, and wished that I were hugging her, feeling the muscles of her chest and belly heaving against me, but I was able to curb my arousal before it became too noticeable.  

She did her best to hold a conversation with the lot of us, getting out a sentence or two at a time, then falling silent or bursting out into more loud, brassy sobs. When she had steadied herself, I took pictures of the two of them together and wished them best of luck on a happy marriage, before returning back up the ridge to the west, where I spent another hour at the peak, amidst the blue-hulled clouds and the golden early summer sun.

I wonder how those two are doing these days?