"Quite simply put, my favorite view on this route is, dare I say, gorgeous."

With a statement like that, I was expecting a grandiose stretch of cornfields with the blue outlines of mountains in the distance rising above a full, bright green tree line bathing in the golden morning light, fog settling over lanky corn stalks.

We drove downhill on a winding, deserted road at 5:45 in the morning. "It's coming up," he said anxiously, knuckles gripping the steering wheel tighter. I almost couldn't wait to see the landscape ahead of us. But as we turned the corner at the bottom of the hill, he slowed down and said, "Right there. Isn't it beautiful?"

I tried to hide my disappointment at the underwhelming view. Yes, the sky was beautiful, blue with white streaks of clouds, then turning a blushing pink toward the horizon. The fields rolled in high, close to the road, blocking most of the mountains in the distance. It's not that it wasn't a beautiful view, it just wasn't gorgeous. To me.

"Eh," I managed. "It is pretty," I quickly followed. "But it wasn't what I was expecting . . . not as . . . 'take-your-breath-away' as I anticipated."

"I don't know," he sheepishly started. "I guess I've just always loved how the hills look in the distance, and how the corn looks like a sea, rolling and tossing."

I handed him my phone and told him to take a picture. "Like that?" he asked, showing me his first snap.

"Whatever reflects the best view of what you love about this spot."

He took two more and then handed my phone back. As we started on down the road, I was reminded of all I love about mornings and sunrises during the summer: the horizon begins to shake off the chill, fog rolls in and clings to the grass, hanging in the trees. Animals sleepily come out from hiding, the birds singing them into blissful consciousness. The sky gives you a coy expression before the sun beams out over the mountains.

I saw the appeal of his gorgeous landscape. I just couldn't understand the type of awe he got from something so ordinary. But what do I know? He somehow manages to see something gorgeous and awe-worthy in me.

"What's the point of all this?" He says, frustrated, tears brimming his chocolate eyes.

"What's the point of all this?" She responds disbelievingly. "The point of all this is the way you feel driving next to the ocean with the windows down, the sun gently blanketing your face. It's the coolness of a breeze kissing your damp forehead on a hot afternoon - you didn't realize you needed it until that moment. It's dancing and pulsing bodies to an infectious tune with bright lights, when you are so caught up in the music you forget why you ever had anything to be sad about. It's an open highway, a new landscape, the rolling in of thunderclouds in the distance. It's the sound of a child being tickled, blissfully unaware of the pain and suffering happening in the world.

"What's the point of all this? It's the flowers opening up in the spring after a harsh winter, that first warm day of the season when the earth smells brand new.  The lightning bugs coming out of tall grass in summer evenings. The way they blink in the trees during the night. It's the way I feel when I look into your eyes and run my fingers through your hair. My heart stops for a moment. I can't stop smiling. When you hold a puppy or kitten and get so full of love you feel like your heart will explode. When you're wrapped up in a hug that you've needed for so long by someone who surrounds you in warmth and protection.

"There is so much beauty, in every detail, that asking what the point of life is means you're not looking close enough. You're not listening enough. You're not reading enough. You're not acting enough to stop focusing on YOUR pain, and help someone else away from theirs.

"The point of all this is to be more selfless, more kind, more loving, more observant. Less talkative, less boastful, less self-seeking. The point of all this is: faith, hope, and love, with the greatest of them being . . . love."

Boardwalk Bingo

"Listen to this," she began, as they swung hands walking along the boardwalk. "What if there were a game for people-watchers at the beach called Boardwalk Bingo?"

"Explain," he says, looking over to her. Her eyes are bright with the reflection of boardwalk rides.

"Well, you could have a square for 'kids crying because their parents are making them leave the arcade,' and 'bros in bro tanks,' 'thirsty girls in crop tops and booty shorts'... the list goes on."

"I see." He shakes his head with a sheepish smile.

"I think I should patent it right now," she says as she throws back her shoulders. "A square for someone losing their ice cream. One for weekenders. One for someone who won the biggest stuffed animal in an arcade game. The possibilities are endless."

The ocean hummed in the distance as they strolled up the boardwalk, away from the crowds and the smells of popcorn and funnel cake. The sand dunes took the place of strollers to their left and teenagers on their right, and the stars became brighter in the cool, humid night. Houses sat in the darkness, the glow of their lights peeking through the night shyly.

He thought about her idea, glancing over at her staring longingly into the sky, and let it roll around in his mind for a while. She forgot to mention one square though, he thought, a man looking at his lady like she's the most treasured person on this earth.