Monday Moment: At the Poop Deck?
This, friends, was truly a moment. This was a "holy cow we're married" moment, a "this cannot be real" moment, a "how cool is this?" moment. Day three of the honeymoon in Nassau, we ventured out for dinner to a place we giggled at on day one in the taxi to the resort. Patrick nudged me and said, "He. He. We are totally eating there."
So, why was this such a moment? Well we made reservations for what we thought was a fun, bar-type restaurant and ended up sitting here. On the beach and all alone by lantern-light with our toes in the warm sand, a breeze giving sunburned skin chill bumps, and the waves crashing in before our eyes.
So we were giddy, of course. But as we buttered our rolls, I remember watching my husband (as of yesterday, my hubby for three months!) with the knife and the smile and closing my eyes.
WE'RE MARRIED! HE'S MY HUSBAND. And simultaneous terror and delight spread through my veins. Terror at the rest of life beyond waves and insanely gorgeous beaches. Delight at having chosen this bread-butterer for my own.
We talked about this moment, and we both decided that we still have moments that kind of stop us in our tracks, thinking, "are we really married?" Slowly, the terror is subsiding (wink, wink).