photo by: https://unsplash.com/photos/a-person-making-a-heart-shape-with-their-hands-FudQgs0Ba9s
That year, we didn’t buy each other gifts. There were no red-wrapped boxes, no restaurant reservations, no expectations. Instead, we gave ourselves a weekend. A short escape into nature, to the Vršac Mountains, with our three children and the naïve confidence that comes from believing a phone can replace preparation.
“Why would we need a map?” I said.
“We have a signal,” she replied.
We were both wrong.
At first, the trail welcomed us gently. Tall trees, filtered sunlight, a silence that felt clean. The children ran ahead, laughing, snapping branches beneath their boots. Everything felt simple. Safe. Then the signal vanished. Not weakened—gone. No bars, no map, just a blue dot frozen in the middle of green nothing.
We laughed it off at first. Adventure, we told ourselves. That’s why we came. But deeper in the forest, the painted trail markers disappeared. Time and weather had erased them, and the path dissolved into guesses. We did what people once did before screens—we watched the sun, felt the ground beneath our feet, followed moss and shadow, instinct and hope.
Every sound grew louder. A sudden rustle froze us in place as a doe burst from the bushes, her fawn close behind. Beautiful, silent, gone. Soon after, birds exploded into flight, a rabbit crossed our path, and a fox watched us briefly before disappearing like a thought not meant to be finished. Each cracked branch underfoot made us flinch.
That’s when I realized: love isn’t always candles and music. Sometimes it’s holding fear quietly so your children don’t hear it.
We kept walking until we found water—a small, clear spring feeding a fast stream. Muddy, tired, and deeply grateful, we crossed together, holding our children’s hands, trusting each other more than the stones beneath us. On the other side, we rested, washed our faces, and decided that if we were already lost, we might as well stay a while.
We built a small shelter from thin branches and lit a fire. In my backpack, forgotten and torn, was an old piece of netting—luck disguised as trash. With patience and more hope than skill, we caught a fish and roasted it slowly. Nearby, we found wild blackberries and blueberries. The children, unimpressed, preferred their snacks—cookies, candy, juice boxes proudly pulled from their pockets.
Watching them eat with dirt on their faces and bright eyes, I thought: this is what they’ll remember.
photo by https://unsplash.com/photos/a-group-of-people-that-are-sitting-in-the-grass-_XSSgw1MGPY
I turned to my wife and asked, half-joking, if she’d like a heart-shaped pie for Valentine’s Day. She laughed. From the bag, I pulled ladyfingers and biscuits. The berries did the rest. It wasn’t perfect. It didn’t need to be. While I worked, she and the children wove a crown and necklace from dandelions. When they placed it on my head, I bowed dramatically. Love deserves ceremony.
We continued until rocks rose suddenly from the forest floor. Climbing meant scraped hands and whispered encouragement, but we made it. On the other side, the forest opened into a sunlit clearing.
Hope has a shape.
I pointed ahead and said we’d find signs, maybe a trail. I didn’t know—but love sometimes means sounding certain when you’re not.
The clearing returned us to the world. Marked paths. Arrows. Familiar symbols. I raised my hands and formed a heart with my fingers. She took the photo. Love won.
Soon after, we reached the mountain lodge. The phone buzzed back to life, messages arriving all at once, loud and unimportant. We were already on our way home.
That night, surrounded by familiar walls, we opened our “real” gifts. They were nice, but small. We talked about the forest instead—about fear, laughter, and how easily love becomes teamwork when things go wrong.
The best gifts, we decided, were still out there—in the mud, the silence, the wrong turns that brought us closer together.
One day, our children will look at those photos.
They won’t see being lost.
They’ll see love.
https://unsplash.com/photos/a-group-of-people-walking-down-a-dirt-road-in-the-woods-Tj1t_bIQejY
Dan zaljubljenih,van mape
photo by: https://unsplash.com/photos/a-person-making-a-heart-shape-with-their-hands-FudQgs0Ba9s
Te godine nismo kupovali jedno drugom poklone. Nije bilo kutija umotanih u crveno, nije bilo rezervacija u restoranima, nije bilo očekivanja. Umesto toga, poklonili smo sebi vikend. Kratko bekstvo u prirodu, na Vršačke planine, sa naše troje dece i naivnim samopouzdanjem koje dolazi iz uverenja da telefon može zameniti pripremu.
„Zašto bi nam trebala mapa?“ rekao sam.
„Imamo signal“, odgovorila je.
Oboje smo pogrešili.
U početku nas je staza dočekala nežno. Visoka stabla, filtrirana svetlost sunca, tišina koja je delovala čisto. Deca su trčala ispred nas, smejala se, lomila grančice pod čizmama. Sve je delovalo jednostavno. Sigurno. A onda je signal nestao. Ne oslabljen — nestao. Nema crtica, nema mape, samo plava tačka zaleđena usred zelenog ničega.
Isprva smo se nasmejali. Avantura, govorili smo sebi. Zato smo i došli. Ali dublje u šumi, obeležja na stazi su nestala. Vreme i vremenske prilike su ih izbrisali, a put se pretvorio u nagađanje. Radili smo ono što su ljudi nekada radili pre ekrana — posmatrali smo sunce, osluškivali tlo pod nogama, pratili mahovinu i senke, instinkt i nadu.
Svaki zvuk je postajao glasniji. Iznenadno šuštanje nas je ukopalo u mestu dok je košuta izletela iz žbunja, a lane za njom. Prelepo, tiho, nestalo. Ubrzo zatim, ptice su uzletele u panici, zec je presekao naš put, a lisica nas je na trenutak posmatrala pre nego što je nestala kao misao koja nije bila namenjena da se dovrši. Svaka polomljena grančica pod nogama činila nas je napetim.
Tada sam shvatio: ljubav nisu uvek sveće i muzika. Ponekad je to tiho držanje sopstvenog straha da ga deca ne bi čula.
Hodali smo dok nismo pronašli vodu — mali, bistri izvor koji se ulivao u brzi potok. Umorni, blatnjavi i duboko zahvalni, prešli smo zajedno, držeći decu za ruke, verujući jedno drugom više nego kamenju pod nogama. S druge strane smo odmorili, umili se i odlučili da, ako smo već izgubljeni, možemo bar malo da ostanemo.
Napravili smo malo sklonište od tankih grana i zapalili vatru. U mom rancu, zaboravljen i pocepan, nalazio se stari komad mreže — sreća prerušena u otpad. Uz strpljenje i više nade nego veštine, uhvatili smo ribu i polako je ispekli. U blizini smo pronašli divlje kupine i borovnice. Deca, neimpresionirana, radije su birala svoje grickalice — kekse, bombone i sokove koje su ponosno izvukla iz džepova.
Gledajući ih kako jedu, prljavih lica i sjajnih očiju, pomislio sam: ovo je ono čega će se sećati.
photo by https://unsplash.com/photos/a-group-of-people-that-are-sitting-in-the-grass-_XSSgw1MGPY
Okrenuo sam se ka supruzi i polušaljivo je pitao da li bi volela pitu u obliku srca za Valentinovo. Nasmejala se. Iz torbe sam izvukao piškote i kekse. Bobice su učinile ostalo. Nije bilo savršeno. Nije ni moralo da bude. Dok sam radio, ona i deca su pleli krunu i ogrlicu od maslačaka. Kada su mi ih stavili na glavu, teatralno sam se poklonio. Ljubav zaslužuje ceremoniju.
Nastavili smo dalje dok se iz šumskog tla iznenada nisu uzdigle stene. Penjanje je značilo izgrebane ruke i šapnute reči ohrabrenja, ali uspeli smo. S druge strane, šuma se otvorila u osunčanu čistinu.
Nada ima oblik.
Pokazao sam napred i rekao da ćemo pronaći znakove, možda stazu. Nisam znao — ali ljubav ponekad znači zvučati sigurno i kada nisi.
Čistina nas je vratila svetu. Obeležene staze. Strelice. Poznati simboli. Podigao sam ruke i prstima oblikovao srce. Ona je napravila fotografiju. Ljubav je pobedila.
Ubrzo potom stigli smo do planinarskog doma. Telefon je ponovo oživeo, poruke su pristizale odjednom, glasne i nevažne. Mi smo već bili na putu kući.
Te noći, okruženi poznatim zidovima, otvorili smo naše „prave“ poklone. Bili su lepi, ali mali. Umesto o njima, pričali smo o šumi — o strahu, smehu i o tome kako se ljubav lako pretvara u timski rad kada stvari krenu po zlu.
Najbolji pokloni, zaključili smo, i dalje su tamo negde — u blatu, tišini, pogrešnim skretanjima koja su nas zbližila.
Jednog dana, naša deca će gledati te fotografije.
Neće videti da smo bili izgubljeni.
Videće ljubav
photo by:https://unsplash.com/photos/a-group-of-people-walking-down-a-dirt-road-in-the-woods-Tj1t_bIQejY
