Your honeymoon should be something you treasure and look back on fondly. A time where you get to spend time alone with the one you love and celebrate your new life together. Something you remember forever.
I will always remember our honeymoon, but not because of all those reasons.
Half way to our destination we stopped to eat a hearty breakfast at a restaurant that I shall keep nameless. Our problems started an hour or so before we got to our hotel room. We had chosen to go to the Smokey Mountains for our romantic getaway, and like we had done when visiting the area with our families, we stopped at a few of the shops in Pigeon Forge before continuing up the mountain. That’s when I first realized my new husband wasn’t feeling so hot.
I offered him some anti-acid medicine I had packed, figuring everything would be fine in an hour or so.
If only that were the case.
We checked into our suite, admired the hot tub and sat our bags down. The next few hours were spent with the man of my dreams in the bathroom and me running back and forth to the hotel office to ask for spare towels, extra soap, and tea bags to make hot tea (with the futile hope it would settle his stomach).
That night I slept on the floor in the suite’s other room, covered by a bath towel and listening for signs that my new husband was again visiting the porcelain god. We had vowed to love and honor one another “For better or worse, in sickness and health…”, and those vows were being tested that first night of our honeymoon. I said a silent prayer that he would feel better in the morning and prepared myself to drive us home should I need to come dawn.
And THAT is what I remember about our honeymoon. Food poisoning, you are a wicked creature.
This post was written in response to the prompt