Night and Day

This ... this THING ... the Hoosier Guy and I have is night and day different than my past life.  Night and Day.  Opposite.  Dark and Light.  Finally -- into the light I venture.

This weekend we went to Key West -- had so much fun, laughing, joking, people watching, enjoying.  It was lovely and peaceful, just what I needed after so much crazy at work and crazy with worry about school.  On Saturday we took a boat trip out to the Dry Tortugas -- the end of the Keys and a national park.  I love national parks, try to visit whenever I can.  The trip was to include snorkeling and exploring Fort Jefferson (the site of the National Park and its environs). 

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I last went snorkeling on my honeymoon with the Hex.  We took a boat trip to two separate locations off Maui and saw lots of pretty fish and beautiful reefs.  Then the ride back -- choppy, stormy, windy.  I could see the dock and yet could not imagine it would take us two hours to get there -- that is how horrid it was.  I became seasick.  Barfed repeatedly.  Felt like hell. 

My new husband?  Taking pictures of my misery -- because he thought it was "Funny."

Hindsight?  I should have divorced his ass immediately upon return to Indiana.  We hadn't been married four days at this point. 

Homicide?  My fellow passengers (and the crew) would have considered it justifiable.

One nice crew member I'll never forget.  As I barfed repeatedly and my Hex took pictures, the crew member brought me a drink and whispered to me: "I'm sorry."  So am I, friend, so am I.

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I haven't been snorkeling since.  First, I'm not a good swimmer -- not really.  I have never been in the ocean above my waist without a boat being within twenty yards (no kidding).  Second, those horrid memories still make me angry.  Make me want to scream and shout at being wronged. Make me angry with myself for staying as long as I did, with someone who thought it was funny that I was sick on a boat and took pictures of my misery for his delight.  Assclown.

So this trip was a leap of faith for me.  I like the ocean.  I like the pretty fish.  I like seeing the underwater world.  I scheduled this trip for Hoosier Guy and I, hoping that I could share this moment with him, enjoy snorkeling -- or not. 

The boat ride out there was horribly choppy in the middle.  Yes, I barfed.  Repeatedly.  Breakfast?  Returned.  Hoosier Guy?  Steering me to the back of the boat, getting me some water, getting me some ginger ale, getting my stomach right, and steering me away from someone else who was barfing (and who would have barfed on me).  He took care of me -- sweetly, kindly, considerately.  Made sure I was okay, did everything to make sure I was gonna be okay.

Snorkeling?  We snorkeled, hand-in-hand, through the coral reefs surrounding Fort Jefferson.  I was farther than I've ever been (on my own power).  I was scared, but not horribly so, because I had my dear Hoosier Guy at my side, making sure I was okay, enjoying myself and pointing out the fish and the reefs. 

It was his first time snorkeling.  We'll do it again.

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I didn't tell Hoosier Guy about my previous snorkeling experience before we went on the boat.  He knew I'd gone in the past, but didn't know about how it went.  He didn't know how Hex had reacted, he didn't know of my fear of deep water and fear of drowning.

He was who I've come to know and love -- a dear, wonderful man who cares for me and who wants me to be happy. 

I am so lucky to have gotten it right this time.  So thankful. So lucky.