The 5th (and final) pre-trip installment...

As I am strategically compiling the list of eating establishments and dishes I plan to visit in honor of each boardie from the thread “Craving Today” started by never2many, I envision myself getting out this list each morning, asking the Shark Hunter “What sounds good today? Pick a restaurant. No you’ve got to order something off this list.” I am reminded of what a pain in the @$$ I am and how lucky I am that he tolerates, no ADORES me and all my bossy, eccentric ways. Wait, I’m not rich. Can’t call them eccentric. Correction – all my bossy, crazy ways. This poor guy. I don’t know how he does it. And he smiles each time and shows enthusiasm. How does he do it? *sigh* I am so lucky.

I’m sure you all could live without the following detail, but here I am taking a trip down memory lane, so read on if you’re bored. If you are in a hurry to get back to Leslie Chow's much more romantic TR or see if Tizzy has posted any new photos, you can skip this one and check back tomorrow as I will actually BE.IN.JAMAICA.THEN! YAY!

Hubby and I were high school sweethearts. Actually, all the way back to middle school (wow that was a long time ago). We dated for a couple of years and as my family tended to do frequently (I went to 13 schools before I graduated high school,) I moved away, out of state, and that was the end of that. Except there was something special. We knew it way back then, and it always stayed with us. I moved back to the state but a different town (about 30 minutes away) a couple years later and we ran into each other. Went to lunch, a looooong lunch, and caught up as much as we could that afternoon. He was a month or two from graduating, had a steady girlfriend. I was still a year away. Not the fun kind of kid, definitely a nerd. Loved learning a lot (still do). He took me home after our lunch, and that was the last time we would speak for well over a decade, closer to two. A year or two later I met the man that would one day become my husband. In the meantime, Shark Hunter had married, raised a step-daughter and had a son. Memories were made. Careers started. Tragedies happened. Life was lived.

Then a few years ago, it happened for each of us. The big D, and I don’t mean Dallas. His was the end of a 13 year marriage, mine was the end of a 12 year marriage. And it was in those darkest moments of our lives, those bleak hours that felt so alone, that we ran into each other for the first time in 16 years. We had lunch. We caught up. DéjÃ* vu. We didn’t stop talking after that first lunch. We relived every moment of each other’s lives, the good, the bad, and the ugly, over the next few weeks. If we were awake, we were talking, whether in person, on the phone, texting, or via email. All those years we missed each other were caught up. And we were amazed to find that not just once, but MANY times, we were in the same place at the same time (even when I had lived in a different state). Once we had actually TOUCHED. He was working security for Garth Brooks back then, before his hockey career and long before his time as a police officer, and long, long before he became a mechanical engineer. I was in the front row, silly screaming girl, Garth is reaching down towards the audience, all of us crazy fans pressed against the stage. Security pushes me back. It was Shark Hunter. Go figure. Just one of many times our paths crossed. But the timing wasn’t quite right. Not until the big D. And then God, or Fate, or Destiny, or whatever you choose to call it, brought us back together.

We’ve been married a few years now. Happily, blissfully married. Happy because we make it happy. Blissful because neither of us will ever forget the things we’ve overcome, the trials we’ve endured. It’s not all roses, but we’re [mostly] positive people. We have a 3 year old. She’s a mess. Too smart for her own good. He has two teenagers, one off to college and the other almost. Our jobs are high-stress, long hours, and just so-so pay. But we make it. We’re grateful. For each other, for life, for what we have, for what we don’t have, and for what is yet to come. But there is one argument between us that will never be settled. He says he’s the lucky one, but I know it is I who is lucky. He’ll never convince me otherwise.

I first experienced Negril almost 10 years ago. I got there by accident, but it was a wonderful accident and I’ve been back as many times as possible since. He and his ex (for the sake of anonymity we’ll call her Satan's Anus) were there in Jamaica that same year, but a month or two ahead of my ex (again exercising discretion – we’ll call him Butthead) and I. Still interesting that our first visits to the island were so close in time considering neither of us had the time or funds to travel frequently, let alone out of the country. But we both felt it. The draw of Jamaica. That song that calls to us, the song of the wind in the mountains or the waves of the ocean or the laughter of school children on the road. That breath of fresh air (literally and figuratively.) Sweet, sweet Jamaica. I’m so glad he and I are together to share it now. We were there for a few nights after we got married. Now it’s time to go back. A nice long reach. Two whole weeks. The longest vacation he or I have ever had, Jamaica or elsewhere. And with every day that has passed, we each needed it more. It’s been an eventful (and exhausting) year. We’re drained. We are emotionally and spiritually wrung out. Time to recharge. Time to reflect. Time to have some fun! Soon come...