"I don't know how to be soft anymore," I admitted. "Work taught me to be hard. The mortgage taught me to be hard. I forgot how to just... be with you."
“No,” she whispered. “I’m terrified that we’ll go back to arguing about Netflix passwords.”
We're also thinking about our long-term plans. We want to write a book about our experiences, and to share our story with the world. We want to inspire others, and to show them that with determination, and love, anything is possible. My Wife and I -Shipwrecked on a Desert Island -...
We yelled. We screamed. We waved our arms like mad people. And on the trawler, a tiny figure appeared on the deck, pointed at us, and disappeared inside the wheelhouse.
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As I look back on our journey, I am amazed at how far we've come. We've faced challenges that I never thought I would face, and we've come out on top. We've learned to appreciate the simple things in life, and to never take anything for granted.
I boiled seawater (unsuccessfully—it just leaves salt). I crushed the leaves of a plant we had seen crabs avoiding (risky, but I was desperate) and made a poultice. I held her foot in my lap for 36 hours. I didn’t sleep. I talked, talked, talked—about nothing, about everything, about the time we got lost in Rome and she navigated us back to the hotel using a museum map, about the way she hums off-key in the shower. "I don't know how to be soft anymore," I admitted
In the afternoons, we often take a nap, or read a book. We've brought a few books with us, and we've also made some journals, where we record our thoughts and experiences.
But let me be brutally honest with you, dear reader. When we stumbled onto that beach, vomiting seawater and bleeding from coral cuts, the first thought in my head was not "Thank God we're alive." It was "How did she get the only waterproof matchbox?" I forgot how to just