Jennifer Plesko

Galveston has a lot of memories for hubby and me. Our first spontaneous drive to Stewart Beach. Sneaking onto the roof of the Tremont Hotel with an ice bucket of homemade margaritas and watching the ships roll in. Walking down the Strand in our formal wear after a college formal. Spending our first wedding anniversary at the San Luis. Stealthily sneaking our dogs into the La Quinta only to find out they allow pets. Watching Scratch leap into the waves while Sniff ran from them.

So when I planned a getaway at a beach condo on the Seawall with the dogs, I couldn’t help but invite him along. Was it a bad idea? I think we both asked ourselves that question. But even though he doesn’t live with me, he is still my husband for the time being. And I still love him. And so do the dogs.

It was bittersweet. In many ways, we fell back into that easy rapport we’ve always had. We know that one person will take the dogs out while the other gets the food ready. He knows to offer his arm when I’m in heels on a brick street. I know he is going to want steak (extra rare) at least once while we’re there. It’s just that unspoken language that you develop over the course of an eleven year relationship.

We created new memories. Watching Scratch lose his mind when he figured out we were, in fact, going to the beach. Going to the steakhouse at the San Luis for dinner and having a meal so good it should be on pay-per-view. Sitting with the dogs in front of The Strand Emporium drinking an Imperial Sugar Dr. Pepper. Watching him try every single flavor of ice cream at LaKing’s. And, of course, the Galveston Island Food and Wine Festival in Saengerfest Park.

But amidst the joy, there was still that twinge. That feeling that this may be the last time. That of all those wonderful memories, this could be it. And that made me wish that Sunday would never come.