It’s Valentine’s Day. Last year, Valentine’s Day sucked. This year, it is the anti-suck Valentine’s Day.
What can I say? Life is good and getting better, and not just because I have a bonefishing trip on the books. I also have a really wonderful woman in my life who feels the same way about me as I do about her. Mutual is nice… very nice.
I also have a little girl… getting bigger all the time. Five years old. I look forward to seeing which boys give her valentines tomorrow. There will be blood.
Now, for V-Day I wanted to find a bonefishing honeymoon story and, of course, I did. Bonefishing happens in places kind of ideal for honeymoons. Sand, sun, palm trees, beautiful water. I may just head to such a place when I do it again.
Here’s the story I found:
It’s dawn and my wife of two days is fast asleep. I’m not with her. She is alone on the first morning of our honeymoon. Instead of waking together to palms rustling outside our villa’s bedroom window, I rose in the tropical November darkness to the same obnoxious cell phone alarm I set for work back home in New Jersey. Christen stirred for a moment, opened her eyes as I kissed her forehead, and drifted off again. My wife of two days is fast asleep and I am standing calf-deep in the warm muck of Flamingo Lake on the south side of Providenciales, holding a fly rod and straining to spot rippled water in the early gray light. I have ten days to catch a bonefish on this island. You might think I could spend the first morning with my bride. But I am a very sick man.
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