Uno is the Loneliest Number

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I have to work this week. That can only be done by staying within commuting distance of my office. Which means that I did not go to Mexico with my wife and friends to fish.

Don’t pity me. Part of the reason that I have to work is because I have some killer trips planned later in the year and had to conserve some vacation time. Intellectually, I got that when I made the decision to be home that week, but emotionally it finally hit me as the trip approached and Hanna started to pack. She was going without me. I supported that decision 100 percent, but still it hurt to be unable to have it all.

Now that they’re there, it hurts even more. I’m seeing their pictures online, getting the occasional WhatsApp message about that night’s dinner or what the bass are chewing, and it stings to be back here in Virginia.

The crazy thing is that when she and I met, she’d never fished for bass, and fifteen years later she’s been to El Salto. A lot. In fact, she’s now been there one more time than I have, but rather than feeling left out, I’m going to take that as I sign that I hit the jackpot. This week’s feeling of being abandoned is a small short term price to pay for the long term reward of having a wife who dreams of fishing trips.