We met on a five-hour trip to Lake Powell

He looks cute, I thought as Scott pranced out of his house. But he’s too young, I corrected myself. Scott opened the passenger seat of my car. “I’m Scott,” he introduced. “And you’re Sara?” “Yep,” I said, “Nice to officially meet you. Do you want to put your stuff in the trunk?” Scott’s hands were full of few camping items: sleeping bag, pillow, and small bag.

He looks cute, I thought as Scott pranced out of his house. But he’s too young, I corrected myself.

Scott opened the passenger seat of my car. “I’m Scott,” he introduced. “And you’re Sara?”

“Yep,” I said, “Nice to officially meet you. Do you want to put your stuff in the trunk?” Scott’s hands were full of few camping items: sleeping bag, pillow, and small bag.

“Sure,” he said. “Um, Sarah,” he spoke to the other Sarah laying down in the back seat, “did you want the front?”

“No,” she said groggily, “I’m good. I’m going to sleep back here. I just got off work a few hours ago.”

Scott threw his things in the trunk and took the passenger seat.

This was the first time Scott and I officially met. The first time I saw him was at a prayer meeting for our church. Our church group was brand new and a bunch of returned missionaries were huddled in a giant group in the middle of the gym floor. When Scott walked in the room, the group erupted into shouts of “Scott Comte! Yeah!” The group enveloped him immediately.

Being a few years older than this group and not knowing anyone there, I stood back and awed at this guy’s ability to stir a room so profoundly. All he had to do was walk in and the people reacted. These guys love him, I thought.

But that was the end of my thinking. I turned my attention to the girls in the room. I had just been called as the Relief Society, the church’s women’s organization, president and felt the huge responsibility of getting to know all the girls.

A few weeks later, the bishop, our group’s spiritual leader, told me that as Relief Society president I needed to make it a priority to go on this big singles’ campout at Lake Powell. The campout was scheduled for a week and I had just started a new job. Asking a full week off didn’t sound like a good conversation with my boss. So to appease everyone, I decided to go for half the campout. Lucky for me, I didn’t have to go the 366.5 miles by myself. Another girl, Sarah, also had to work and appreciated a ride since her last shift before leaving was a night shift. And another girl, who was my new secretary in the Relief Society presidency, asked if I would take her younger brother. Of course I said yes. Although I was nervous, because he was a boy.

As a side note, I was pretty awkward around cute boys. Let me reiterate, I was 26 and extremely awkward around really good looking, popular boys. I had no idea how to talk to them. Their mouths moved and asked me questions and mine drooled and spurted out nonsense that I’m pretty sure sounded like: nom nom nom. It’s a wonder no one asked me what I was eating or why I was eating or why I was talking with my mouth full.

But, with Scott, things were different. I’m pretty sure it was because I told myself he was too young so that automatically put him in the friends category. I could talk to guys who were just friends.

Looking back on the Lake Powell trip, it doesn’t seem like it was really five hours. We talked easily. Scott asked me what I like to do and I, of course, told him about Destra. (What is Destra you ask? Someday, maybe, you will find out. Today is not that day.) And he told me about these amazing ideas he had for businesses and life. He had a lot of dreams and I was honored he shared them with me.

Eventually Sarah woke up and I had to share Scott. Not that I was jealous or anything. Hahaha ha ha. Much later a friend told me that she thought it curious that when she talked about asking Scott on a date, I would discourage her. Honestly, I didn’t know I was doing it. Behold the power of the subconscious.

Where am I going with this story?

It was the first time I met Scott. We shared a glorious five-hour car ride with a girl asleep in the back, most of the time. We even stopped at the Hollow Mountain gas station and ate burgers from Blondies next door while reading local literature.

When we arrived at Lake Powell, I learned my church group was getting ready to leave. It was windy, not a lot of the members from our group showed up, and one of the girls wanted to go home to be with her family since her grandma just died.

Scott ran off to be with some buddies from another group and Sarah and I wondered what we should do. Since the people we came to be with were leaving, we maybe should head back too, but after a ride on one of the boats.

The last eventful part of the day was when we emerged from Spanish Fork canyon. A dear stood in the middle of a four-lane highway. I came only inches from hitting the doe-eyed creature. Ahhhh! I still scream in my head when I remember that close encounter.

And that was the day I met Scott. 🙂

Posted by

Writer. What more can be said. Actually, a lot. So, just read and find out.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s