Veeder: Time away together is an investment
We said we would take a honeymoon later. I was on the verge of turning 23, out of college a couple years and on the road with my music. He was on the verge of 24 and climbing oil dereks, seven days on, seven days off and more if he could.
We were on a mission, on a roll, in love but on our own schedules.
We’d go when we had a bit more money.
We’d go in the winter when we craved the heat.
We’d go before the first baby.
We’d go. We promised we’d go.
But when you’re almost 23 and almost 24 you know nothing about time and how it sneaks up on you like the white streaks of hair around your temples or that old shoulder injury that grabs you when you’ve been fencing all day and then suddenly you’re 10 years older and wiser perhaps only because that’s what time forces on you.
And so we finally went. Last week, to honor those 10 years, we dug out our swimming suits, sent the toddler to her cousins’ and hopped a plane for a resort by the ocean, just the two of us, for the first time.
Oh, we’ve done plenty of traveling – work trips across the globe, family trips to the mountains, road trips and camping trips and trips to warm places with friends – but it was time to designate one of those tropical post-car trips for ourselves.
And I’m not saying you need to take vacations to places with sandy beaches and palm trees to stay in love, but I am saying it helps.
To see your man out of his element with the sole mission to relax, have fun and drink rum is like being reintroduced to the person you fell in love with before you had a toddler and cattle and a mortgage on a partially finished house.
But if you hate long airplane rides or prefer, like one of my cowboy friends, that the air doesn’t get the chance to touch your legs outside your Wranglers, I’ve decided now that we’re back, sunburned and broke, that all you really need is a few days away somewhere.
Because if you don’t invest in each other, who will?
And part of the investment is remembering why you chose one another for this business of life in the first place. Funny how uprooting, for even a short amount of time, can help put it all in its place. I think it’s the daydream moments you get when you’re doing unfamiliar things, like swimming side by side in the ocean, watching the boats come in and out of the bay, wishing time would stand still so you never have to vacuum again
And then a stingray swims between your legs and you jump up on your complimentary floaty faster than Michael Phelps wins gold medals and you’re reminded of the first of many reasons you’ve chosen life together on the prairie.
Reason number two? I got seasick sitting on the floaty.
Life and love: Just one reality check after another.
Go get yours friends.
Jessie Veeder is a musician and writer living with her husband and daughter on a ranch near Watford City, N.D. She blogs at veederranch.com. Readers can reach her at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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