Accepting the inevitable

We treked to a waterfall today. There were four streams to cross on the way- small seasonal ones, which could be waded across. Each became a minor adventure- remove socks and shoes, balance precariously on stones, worry about slipping on mossy ones, follow what looked like easy paths, celebrate after getting across.
On the way back, with water sloshing inside the shoes, and memories inside our hearts, we waded through the same streams with little effort. Nobody slipped, nobody even thought about how easy it now was.

All that had changed was that we had accepted the inevitable- wet shoes.
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A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.