(Read “The Lost Journal Entries, Part 1 here.)
..::: Somewhere on a beach in Playa Del Carmen, Mexico :::..
…My bride and I sit, sandy feet, cross-legged in a duet of relaxed poses. Synchronicity is the international sign of honeymooners.
Both of us are tired, and accomplished. Looking back on what was the culmination of hard work, respectful *cough* disagreements, tender bed talk, nervous phone calls and the usual madness that family brings, oh, and the wedding too. We were lucky.
We are lucky.
Not because we found ourselves gambling, but because we don’t. This was not a gamble for us. It was… more on this later. My beer is empty.
She’s wrapped in a bridal white bikini (that she may have had on under her wedding gown, knowing her affection for anticipation) fit for a bride, smiling as she reads her 3rd book in as many days, contentment married with her joy of sharing life with me. She is not one to look backwards much. And her love of what is to come feels like hands clasped, fingers interwined with my regret of opportunities in the long lost yesterdays.
I am loved.