My husband was flipping through TV channels last night and randomly landed on a music channel playing 80s videos. As soon as I heard the song, I melted. I told my husband, “Oh, this song was my first dance, back in middle school.”
He stood up immediately, which I wasn’t expecting. He smiled, reaching his arms out to me. We slow-danced in the middle of the living room, singing along, laughing as we remembered those awkward gym dances so long ago. I rested my head on his chest, and he kissed the top of my head.
I can’t remember the last name of the boy I danced with almost 40 years ago in that middle school gym. But I remember his face, his nervousness, the song, where we were in the gym, the excited butterflies I felt.
What a beautiful, nostalgic experience to slow dance to that same song, decades later, with my husband, in the living room of our home. Wherever that middle school boy is now, I hope he also found love, happiness, and his own lifelong dance partner.
So true! My husband and I have been together nearly two decades, but we still hold hands, snuggle, kiss hello, and text each other all day long like teenagers. We had to walk through fire and go to battle for our love, and because of that, we value our relationship and each other even more.
We also have the opposite extreme to compare it to, having spent far too long with people who had (and still have) no clue whatsoever what real love is. They will never know what it feels like to have what we have, and that actually makes me a little sad for them.
I am grateful that we found each other. Anything we went through over the past 19+ years was worth it, to have a true partner and best friend in my corner and in my life, in my arms, in my heart. I wouldn’t trade him for anything.
Yes, it’s our time. Time to fully enjoy each day, plan trips, revel in quiet moments, build even more memories together. No matter how long we have been together, you see, we still have time to make up for.
I am not a summer person. At all. I would rather bundle up in a coat than sweat just walking to my car. Sweaters, blankets, boots, fireplaces, hot tea, chilly evenings…that is what I live for.
The beach is hot. There’s sand everywhere. Did I mention it’s hot? I don’t even usually like water all that much.
So why do I love going to the beach with my husband? He made a comment recently that maybe I go mostly to make him happy.
It’s true, I rarely went to the beach before I met my husband. For years, he and I took the kids there, and I helped build sand castles and watched them play in the water, and I took pictures we could enjoy later. My husband and I never took trips just for the two of us–we always planned them so the kids could go with us.
A few years ago, when we started planning a weekend trip, it was so odd knowing that it was going to be just us two, now that the kids are older. The idea of going to the beach came up, and it seemed like such a novel idea. What ever would we do with ourselves, without four kids to keep up with?
We figured it out pretty quickly. We practically ran from our room down to the beach, and soon we were floating blissfully in the water, the warmth of the sun kissing our shoulders and faces, a gentle breeze dancing across the water, and we were hooked. Jumping in the waves, laughing as the tide tries to carry me off, lazily drying off in beach chairs, listening to the waves, heading out to dinner later, exploring…I love all of it.
A weekend beach trip here and there has become something we look forward to every summer now. And my husband has it wrong: I don’t go simply to make him happy. I may not enjoy summer, or being hot, or sand getting everywhere, but when I am with him, it’s just different. It’s fun. It’s relaxing. It’s magical. Because he is with me, and it is our thing, our time together, something we love doing together.
We have another trip coming up soon, and I have already been exploring new places to check out next year. I like the idea of creating experiences, not just buying stuff. Building memories, seeing new places with each other, walking or driving around to see what is over there, what can we get into here?
Ending the day on the beach to watch the sunset has become our thing, too. No matter how many we have watched together, each one is still exciting and beautiful.
So sure, I will be thrilled when the temperature drops, when we need to stack firewood beside the fireplace, when I pull down sweaters from the top shelf of the closet, when the air is crisp and cool and energizing. But for now, if we absolutely have to endure summers, then I will just keep browsing beach websites, checking out hotels and resorts, and shopping for dresses to wear to dinner after our beach day. I will look forward to our next weekend getaway and enjoy all of the pictures from our last one.
For me, it isn’t just the beach itself that I love so much. It’s beautiful, sure, but it’s what it all makes me think of that makes me smile. I see waves and remember how much fun we have jumping in them. I hear those waves crash and feel the peace and tranquility of sitting beside him, chatting, dozing, so relaxed. I see sand and think of walking down the beach, holding hands, picking up shells, waiting for one more sunset.
We have so many memories at the beach now that I love it for one simple, powerful reason: because it’s a place I love sharing with him. I love our framed photos from our beach walks, knowing each one is a piece of our experiences together that no one else has. Just us. And I love the idea of collecting even more together: more memories, more smiles, more shells, more pictures, and always…more sunsets.
Typically when my husband and I take a trip or attend an event, I like lots of lead time. I like to plan, research, draft an itinerary if necessary, sketch out every last detail. So when I saw an announcement of a full moon lighthouse climb only a day or two before the event, I thought, oh well. Maybe we’ll catch the next one.
Then I stopped and asked, why? Will the world stop spinning if we just go and don’t know every tiny piece of information first? So I mentioned it to my husband, and he was excited about it. That settled it: we were going!
Last night we stopped for a quick dinner and then headed out to the lighthouse. A band was playing, and a bonfire was snapping and crackling in the darkness. I went first up the lighthouse steps, and at first we were joking and talking, my husband slapping my butt playfully, but after what seemed like a million steep steps, we got a lot quieter, and I was wondering if we would ever reach the top!
We kept circling, winding our way up one step at a time. Someone had written “halfway there” on the wall, and then further up had added the note “Almost there!” The steps got even tinier and narrower, then finally, we were at the top.
There’s no describing the view from the top of that lighthouse. The full moon was glowing proudly, reflecting on the water in the distance, a silvery glint on the treetops. It was beautiful and peaceful.
My husband stood beside me silently, then reached for my hand on the railing. We were still out of breath from the climb, but it was very worth it. I felt dizzy from the height, and the walkway was extremely narrow, so we were standing practically on the edge by necessity. I’m not a fan of heights, but I didn’t want to leave, either. It was all too pretty.
From the top, we could see the glow of the bonfire, and we could see people walking around on the ground, so tiny. The circling light from the lighthouse danced across treetops. We could see the shimmer of the water, which looked like it was floating above the thick trees from that height.
On our way home from the lighthouse, my husband got excited about the big, bright moon reflecting off the water, so we pulled over and walked down to the beach. We stood together and enjoyed the beauty of the view, and we induldged in a few kisses (how could we not, in that setting?)
I admit I’ve been planning our summer trips since the fall, but now I feel inspired to maybe add just a few more spontaneous, “let’s-just-do-this” kind of things, too. When we look back over our lives together, years and years from now, I like the idea of being able to say, “Remember when we stood in the full moon at the top of a lighthouse?”
Sweat & Sparkle 