I'll Be Seeing You

Twenty-Four.

Mark and I boarded the Carnival Cruise Line at the Port of Charleston early Wednesday morning. Rene and Tommy dropped us off bright and early, staying just long enough to see us off. The two of them, along with Abby, had plans to squeeze in some last-minute shopping before heading back to Tennessee.

I couldn't contain my excitement as we boarded the ship. It felt like one of those early scenes from Titanic—though I was definitely praying for a better ending. I had never been on a real cruise before. The closest I'd come was the dolphin cruise we took last summer. That one was fun, sure—but it only lasted two hours and was on a tiny boat that barely held fifteen people. But this? This was an entirely different world. The ship looked like a floating city. There were hundreds of people aboard, and so many things to do and see I didn't even know where to start.

Our room was on the seventh deck, with a private balcony that overlooked the endless blue horizon. The space was surprisingly cozy—like a hotel room, only narrower and with a touch of nautical charm. There was a queen-sized bed with crisp white linens, a small couch, a vanity, and a flat-screen TV mounted to the wall. A bottle of champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries waited for us on the little table near the sliding glass doors, courtesy of Dave.

I stepped out onto the balcony and let the sea breeze hit me. It smelled like salt, sunscreen, and adventure. "This is unreal," I whispered, soaking in the view. Mark slipped his arms around me from behind. "Not bad for our first vacation as husband and wife," he said, grinning.

That evening, we got dressed up for our first fancy dinner. I wore a deep blue dress that matched the ocean, and Mark looked downright edible in his suit—dark gray with a pale blue tie I had picked out weeks ago. The dining room was grand, with white tablecloths, chandeliers, and a string quartet playing softly in the corner. We ordered steak and lobster, and I don't know if it was the sea air, the vacation magic, or just simple happiness—but it was one of the best meals I'd ever had.

Of course, it wouldn't be a vacation without some catastrophic event. Just as the waiter was setting down our dessert—an extravagant slice of chocolate lava cake—Mark got up to adjust his chair... and knocked over his water glass. He practically baptized the waiter. Water everywhere. The waiter froze, Mark turned beet red, and I couldn't stop laughing. Mark tried to help mop things up with his napkin, but only managed to knock over my glass of water, making even more of a mess. It was chaos. Elegant chaos, but chaos nonetheless.

The waiter took it like a champ, smiling and saying, "Don't worry, sir, happens all the time." Mark muttered something about needing sea legs. While attempting a second time to help clean up. I patted his arm and said, "At least you didn't tip the whole table."

After dinner, we wandered through the ship like two kids exploring a theme park for the first time. Everywhere we turned, there was something new—a comedy show starting in the lounge, live music spilling from the piano bar, even a couple salsa dancing near the casino like they were on Dancing with the Stars.

We ended up outside on one of the upper decks, hand in hand, letting the breeze tangle my hair and the sound of the ocean wrap around us. The moon hung low over the water, casting a shimmering path of silver across the waves. It was quiet except for the low hum of the ship and the distant laughter of other passengers.

Mark pulled me in close, right there under the stars. "So, Mrs. Johnson," he said with a soft grin, "is this everything you dreamed it would be?"

I smiled, resting my head against his chest. "And more."

We stayed there for a while, just swaying gently with the motion of the ship, saying little and feeling everything. Eventually, we made our way back to the room, where the bed had been turned down and soft music played from the TV's ambient channel.