Spook and I just got back from our honeymoon. Sure, we’ve been married for 2 years or so, but between money and just plain being busy, we ended up putting it off. We ended up driving out to Las Vegas (a trip that takes about 32 hours each way in a straight shot), staying for a week, and then driving back, getting to experience both the Rockies and the Southwest. Death Valley and Arizona in particular were incredible and Vegas itself a bit of a disappointment (the movies had built it way up for me, and the actual town is a mere shadow of its reputation), although Spook and I saw some great shows there, and my fondest Vegas memory may just be a shared bubble bath (giant tub with jets and a view of the strip) and much-needed room service after a long and glorious day droving and tromping around the alien landscape of Death Valley in the heat. A million weird and wonderful things happened. I should blog about it — and probably will.
I’m floored by how little we fought (total snippy/fighting time over 2 weeks of being constantly together estimated at about 50 minutes) even given the demands of such a trip (lots of car travel, shuffling hotel to hotel, a mostly open itinerary in Vegas that demanded we come to a consensus on the spot how to spend our days and nights there, etc), although in the moment it often seemed like far too much conflict for me to bear. To be fair though, neither Skyspook or I relish conflict (few do), and we both have our own dysfunctional ways of dealing with conflict when it inevitably arises.
But more than anything, I feel loved and protected after this trip. It’s so comfortable and intense and undeniable. Love without conditions. It’s like what I hear in the voices and see on the faces of people who have a great relationship with their parents.
I am enveloped in love and support.