Aruba Love Quotes

You’re not ready to tell Poppy you love her, and that’s fine,” he calls after me. “You’re not ready to tell me either, and that’s also fine. God knows you’re not ready for a big happily ever after with commitment, and babies, and that chocolate lava cake in Aruba! But I’m gonna get you ready because I’m an insufferable fucking asshole who’s too Leo to function, and I love you, Lukas Novikov!

I will not dream anymore, you said. I will not set myself up for the pain. But then your team made the playoffs, or you saw a movie, or a billboard glowing dusky orange and advertising Aruba, or a girl who bore more than a passing resemblance to a woman you’d dated in high school—a woman you’d loved and lost—danced above you with shimmering eyes, and you said, fuck it, let’s dream just one more time.

Life is an adventure orchestrated by God, and our attempts to be in the driver’s seat will always result in mere frustration. Why? Because this is not the way of authentic love, which involves the total surrender of self. Authentic love calls for sacrifice. That is true of all of us. Whether it’s being up with a baby all night, caring for an aging parent, giving a hurting friend a landing place in your home for a while, or becoming a foster parent, we will be called on to sacrifice. That is the way of the Cross, and we are not offered anything else. It’s easy to think of parenthood as a season of sacrifice that ends so we can move on with our lives. But neither Christ nor the saints ever model living for ourselves. God never tells us, “Wow, thanks for your service. You’ve done your time and please enjoy the next four decades of your life living just for yourself. You’ve been serving others for awhile so grab your sunscreen and enjoy your remaining years drinking cocktails in Aruba.” Can you imagine that being the final chapter of a saint’s life? We are called to live out generous love in whatever opportunities present themselves to us.

Were you ever lonely, Franci?” he asked in a whisper against her neck. “Without me?” Her eyes popped open, but she kept her breathing even, pretending to be sleeping. “I never thought about it, about being lonely without you,” he whispered. “But I kept wondering why I was so empty.” He kissed her neck. “I looked for you in so many women and never understood why it didn’t work. Never understood it was because I loved you.” She pinched her eyes closed against a tear. He sighed deeply, pulling her close against him. “I want to take you to the Alps to ski—we used to talk about doing that. Remember? And I want to go with you to Aruba, to dive and lay on the beach. We’ll get one of those huts on stilts—we’ll make love outside.” She heard him yawn deeply; he kissed her neck again. “I thought eventually I’d get over you. I didn’t know I’d never get over you because I loved you.” And then the talking stopped and she heard his light snore. Very softly she whispered, “Yes, I was lonely. You have no idea…” *

Kokomo Aruba, Jamaica, ooh I want to take ya Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama Key Largo, Montego, baby why don't we go, Jamaica Off the Florida Keys, there's a place called Kokomo That's where you want to go to get away from it all Bodies in the sand, tropical drink melting in your hand We'll be falling in love to the rhythm of a steel drum band Down in Kokomo [Chorus] Aruba, Jamaica, ooh I want to take you to Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama Key Largo, Montego, baby why don't we go Ooh I want to take you down to Kokomo, we'll get there fast and then we'll take it slow That's where we want to go, way down in Kokomo. Martinique, that Montserrat mystique We'll put out to sea and we'll perfect our chemistry And by and by we'll defy a little bit of gravity Afternoon delight, cocktails and moonlit nights That dreamy look in your eye, give me a tropical contact high Way down in Kokomo [Chorus] Port au Prince, I want to catch a glimpse Everybody knows a little place like Kokomo Now if you want to go and get away from it all Go down to Kokomo [Chorus] Aruba, Jamaica, ooh I want to take you to Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama Key Largo, Montego, baby why don't we go Ooh I want to take you down to

I will not dream anymore, you said. I will not set myself up for the pain. But then your team made the playoffs, or you saw a movie, or a billboard glowing dusky orange and advertising Aruba, or a girl who bore more than a passing resemblance to a woman you'd dated in high school— a woman you'd loved and lost— danced above you with shimmering eyes, and you said, fuck it, let's dream just one more time.