An unsettling question on my wedding anniversary

This is the last place I ever imagined I’d spend my wedding anniversary.

On top of a mountain. In Oman.

Go ahead and look on a map. I had to. We’ re talking the other side of the globe in a tiny country bordered by The United Arab Emirates, Saudi Arabia and Yemen. Yeah, Yemen — which my husband insisted we would only end up in if we took a wrong turn.

Welcome to the latest travel creation of them an I’ve come to refer to as “Miles Husband.” The man I’ve been married to for five years now has gone overboard with his hobby of collecting frequent flyer miles without flying.

It’s all an elaborate formula of how we spend money through credit card bonuses and online shopping portals. That’s the simple answer. The details of spreadsheets and spending plans would make your eyes glaze over.

Until Miles Husband entertains you with what are admittedly over-the-top travel experiences we get for mere pennies.

This destination started as a joke.

“We could fly from New York to Abu Dhabi on Etihad Airways First Class Apartment Suites,” went his sales pitch. We each got our own apartment on this fancy airplane. Those two one-way tickets would’ve cost $29,000. Miles Husband paid $15 a piece.

“I booked an extension to Muscat,” Miles Hus- band mentioned in passing. “Don’t worry, we’re really not going to Oman,” he assured me.

Until we were. When we did research and found it is actually an incredible country. It is progressive for that part of the world. And safe.

And so we came… but without a plan to get back.

“Why limit ourselves?” Miles Husband’s sales pitch continued. “What if something better opens up while we’re away.”

Which is the answer to the question, “How did I get here?” A question, I realize, is a great analogy for marriage. Have you asked yourself that, Dear Reader? About your marriage? About life, in general? How did I get here?

Sometimes it’ sa sad question when things are a wreck. And sometimes inspired, when things are good. The answer for me, at this moment, is reassuring.

It occurs to me that marriage works when one of you is always getting the other one home, in one sense or another.

I remind myself of this as I hear Husband mumbling,

“Uh, oh. Wifey, we might be stuck in Muscat for three days,” as he sees award space disappear from his voodoo Miles Husband matrix. I can be on a mountain top in Oman because I know one way or another this man will get me home.

He would die for me actually.

This makes a mountaintop in Oman a pretty wonderful place to be. One I never imagined I’d get to.

One that makes me say, “Happy Anniversary, Husband. Thank you for five years of incredible adventures. By the way, I hear Italy is lovely this time of year. Can you get us there?”