The Honeymooners

This morning started off, almost immediately, with an argument. It wasn't about anything important - even though he DID tell me he was coming back on Friday and it turns out he's coming back on Saturday. Just a matter of detail.

But this always seems to happen. Whenever T is getting ready to head off on a trip to someplace far away (or even near by) we both tense up. Our relationship is both heartily symbiotic and, at times, unhealthily codependent. But what can I say, we're two crazy kids in love. And so we celebrate that love by fighting whenever we face separation. Makes perfect sense, no? No. Yeah, we know.

The funny thing is, it usually greets in the same way on his return. We nearly always start on our way home from the airport and end up bickering in the car. The argument itself is never anything important, and I think of it more as a dispelling of the tension. The only way we both know how to let off some steam, because there aren't the right words to say "I missed you so much I thought my head would explode, and why is the rest of the world so annoying when you're not around?"

The last year has been particularly hard for our relationship. Between work, extensive travel, and full-time school, T has barely had enough time to inhale and exhale between chores - let alone spend any decent amount of quality time curled up with his wife. I'm sure it doesn't help that I've been - you know - me. (which is another way of saying "a big whiner who complains too much and tends to be grumpy for no particular reason").

But we are not usually like this. Our relationship has always given each of us a greater, deeper appreciation and zest for the joy of living. Just being alive together, experiencing a small few of the incredible possibilities, has given me the greatest memories of my life.

One of my favorites is, of course, our honeymoon. After all the stress and running around of getting married, once the deed was done we were in bliss. Married! Alone! On a cruise ship bound for Mexico's sparkling sands and crystal blue waters. We followed up our blissful cruise with a few golden days in New Orleans after docking at port there. That week is the most memorable of my life, to date. All that time together, uninterrupted, and we explored and tasted and breathed in everything around us. I've heard New Orleans is a different place now, and I can't imagine having missed the chance to see it as we did. The moment, though, that stands out the most in my mind - the one that will stick forever as a portrait of our carefree and exuberant youth together - is a moment from the cruise.

We stood on the rear deck of the giant ship, he in his best casual evening wear and me in my chiffon sundress. He held his tumbler of Jack Daniels in one hand, a finely rolled cigar in the other. I sipped my small glass of very good port wine and casually drew from a small brandy-dipped cigar. We stared over the rail, out into the vast darkness of the sea, the wind that whipped around us making my dress dance in the dim glow of the ship lights. We talked about the wedding, about our future, about how we would take many, many more trips like this one. It felt like a scene from an old Hollywood picture, one where the hero and heroine make grand plans that are sure to cut short by tragedy, only to be redeemed by the power of true love. It was a lovely cliche, and I relished the moment.

It has been more than five years since that night on the boat; two (and a half) children, two moves, and an infinite number of adventures (and, yes, tragedies) later, we have never quite recreated the blissfully naive optimism of that moment. What we have done, though, is go from the soft-focus dreaminess of that night to the gritty day-to-day of an actual life together... and kept that same sense of adventure, and found an even greater sense of wonder and joy in this other person we are each bound to for as long as we both live.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is... Sorry for being a royal pain in the arse, honey. Have a great trip, and go ahead and have a smack at a few Czech girls. When in Rome and all that. Just make sure you tell them you have a pregnant wife at home who has no qualms about flying half way across the globe to give a real whippin' to any woman who tries to get over-friendly with my man. I'll see you when you get back... and I'll even do my best not to pick a fight at the airport.