A Bad Case of EVB

My husband and I just returned from a cruise around the Western Caribbean. It was his first cruise, and he is hooked. But now we’ve got EVB; we’ve got it bad. EVB:  that’s “End of Vacation Blues.” It began incubating toward the very end of our trip and blew into a full-blown textbook case the day after we arrived home.

Our cruise was supposed to include stops at Jamaica, Grand Cayman, and Cozumel. But we sailed into a cycle of tropical storms that created 10’ Gulf swells, rain, and 50-knot winds.

But we were not discouraged.  

We had a great room.

With a balcony.

When it wasn’t raining, we spent a lot of time out there.

 We enjoyed delicious food. Lots of it.

We entertained ourselves quite nicely during four days without internet, cell phones, or obligations.

Somewhere, out in the distance, is Jamaica. We didn’t get to stop there and do the zip line over the tree canopy outside of Montego Bay. So long, Jamaica.

We saw flying fish, though, from the balcony during a break in the weather.

And that island over there? That’s Grand Cayman. That’s as close as we got; strong winds prohibited us from tendering, so the port was closed. We didn’t get to snorkel, swim, or take the Atlantis submarine to see life under the sea.

So long, Georgetown. Maybe next time.

The fifth day of our cruise, though, the seas calmed, the sun shone, and we were able to stop at the La Isla de Cozumel.

 We saw Mayan ruins at Tulum.

 We had some beach time.

 Not nearly enough beach time.

So long, Cozumel. Until next time.

So now we’re home. With EVB. Where’s our cabin steward? I have to make my own bed now, and vacuum. And there is no turn-down service. And where’s our chef, and our entertainment director?

And how about the nice young man who brought the tray of Fun Drinks even when we just thought about it? Sigh.

My husband thinks the only cure for our EVB is to move to Playa del Carmen, a beautiful seaside village in Yucatan that captured our fancies.

We still wouldn’t have a chef, a cabin steward, or a Fun Drink Man. But I’m willing to race for that cure.

Moments in Marriage: Thirty-Six Years

It was love for the grandchildren that made us return from our 5-day anniversary getaway.  Pure, sacrificial love. If we hadn’t come home, I can just imagine all our young granddaughters asking, “Why didn’t Mimi and Papi come home? Don’t they miss us?” And yes, we would have missed them, and the grandsons, too.

But our 36^th wedding anniversary celebration was indeed a celebration. A private celebration of us.  And we didn’t want it to end.

We had taken our hiking gear because Arkansas has some great trails.

But the cabin we had chosen for our getaway was so secluded we felt the entire world was our own. Think Adam and Eve.

So once we got settled in, we didn’t leave it until check-out time.

The weather was so pleasant we kept the doors open to hear the sounds of the woods and enjoy the soft breezes that blew through the valley.

We enjoyed sunrises.

And moonrises.

And views from the hot tub.

In a long-term marriage, you have to nurture the magic that brought you together in the first place. You have to put some personal work into being fascinated with your partner and being fascinating to your partner. Emotionally. Physically. Intellectually. Spiritually.

But the pay-off is a rare depth that many have not or will not experience. A long-term marriage gives you the opportunity to appreciate how far your partner has come, the entire person he is, and who he is becoming. Developing an openness together to dynamic change and growth is both inspiring and comforting.

In thirty-six years, our shoulders together have borne burdens, and I expect that labor is not done. But our lives are still open to small, calm pleasures that are not rare, and our hearts continue to dance in the joy of being together.

We continue to enjoy a celebration of us.