When I first meet Carlos, he was a commercial fisherman; he had been on boats since he was 19. In fact, our first date was comprised of him bringing me to the boat he was fishing on at the time--the Zella (I got slightly seasick. The boat was in port. I am a delicate flower). We rode there on his Harley. Then we went to Fat Jack's Pizza Shack, where I had my first introduction to how Carlos can eat All The Things. You can see whyI had to have this man.

I remember him telling me all the things they did on the boat, the different kinds of fishing boats and lobster boats, and the different parts of the boat. The birds, the doors, the outriggers. I understood why his muscles were huge: because he was moving Big Things and doing Dangerous Things all day. Allllll day. For days in a row. I decided I would not ever want to work on a fishing boat. EVER.

He told me stories of when gannets would land on the deck of the boat far out at sea, especially on the freezer boats. He told me about the time they almost hit Cuttyhunk and the time he almost fell off the back of the boat. I learned about mending nets (which is part of the reason he is so good at sewing! If your wetsuit rips, he is your MAN to sew the hole shut with dental floss. You will never know there was a hole) and about knot tying. I found that I fall into the category of, "If you can't tie a knot, tie a lot."

When he was out at sea, I would go down to the point, stand on the west wall, stare out the gap, and talk to him. I would tell him about my day. I would tell him to be careful and bring some scallops because we were out. I would watch all the boats come and go. And then I would go home and count how long it would be until he would be back in port and would come home for a few hours before he had to go back to the boat to take out.

He is not a fisherman anymore. He traded in that life long ago for one that lets him sleep in "a bed that is not moving". He's still gone long hours, though (and he doesn't bring home scallops anymore). And sometimes? Or maybe more than sometimes. I still go down to the point, stand on the west wall, stare out the gap, and talk to him.