In the summer of 2006, I was the occassional golf widow.
This means my beloved would spend many a saturday away, spikes on his feet, glove on his hand, playing golf.
By the summer of 2007, his interest in golf began to dwindle and I was a fishing widow many weekends. When you live in the Mountains and marry someone who loves fly fishing, this is a known risk. And frankly, I don’t mind. I would occassionaly tag along and sit by the bank of whatever creek or river with my book, crazy creek and journal, happily spending the time while hubbie fished.
2008, 2009 and 2010 mostly involved cycling, running, and fishing. Not me. Hubbie would spend hours involved in these athletic pursuits and always return home refreshed and happy. His best self.
This spring however, my husband met someone new. He has (for the time being) given up small creeks and back water streams filled with native brook trout, for the larger white and rushing waters of the East Coast’s favorite paddling rivers.
Last weekend, he and some pals went to the NOC – which I now know stands for the Nantahala Outdoor Center, where white water enthusiasts can camp, eat, drink and spend their days being pounded by cold crisp water and the occassional rock.
Here hubbie is looking strong, and happy in his canoe. Please make note of one important fact. This is a canoe for one. Not two. No wifey is allowed to share this blue boat.
When he called to tell me he was safe, there was such happiness in the retelling of the first day. Beautiful views, the AT, great food, nice people, Olympic paddlers hanging out. He explained a spill or two but with such joy I almost didn’t understand. How can your boat filling with water, tipping and you spilling out onto rocks be fun?
I (as previously confessed) do not like pain, or fear, or things that create either. So biting it on any rock formation, white water or not, does not sounds like fun to me.
But for these guys, it is more than fun. It is life giving. Here he is again with paddling buddy #2 . 
They look focused.
If you know them, or guys like them, then you know they are happy.
Cold water.
Boat.
Happiness. And so, I am now resigned to be a white water widow as well as the other activities named above. And as long as hubs comes home in one piece, I am glad he has found a new sport and passion to add to the others.
And also glad that his canoe is for one. I can’t imagin
