seven years ago

I started writing this earlier in the day and then had to stop for work. Now, it's well after midnight so this will say it was posted on October 31, but it was meant for October 30th. So let's just pretend that's what it says.


Seven years ago today I got married. It was a beautiful afternoon wedding in Cincinnati, followed by a soul-touching trip to New England, where we dipped our hands in Walden Pond, stood on a cliff over the coast of Maine, and saw New Hampshire’s Old Man of the Mountain before he fell. And then we moved to St. Louis and started our married life.

That first year in St. Louis was our first year of marriage, and despite my ex’s amazing sense of adventure about it all, I probably made it more difficult than I needed to. Until then, I thought I liked change, but as I learned during that period, I actually don’t always adjust well to different environments. I missed my hometown and my family. Also, I had not yet fully grasped a number of things about myself and I am sure that on some level I was already confused, despite my happiness about being with him.

My ex and I had four sweet, fun—and at times confusing and nerve-wracking—years of marriage before I faced a couple major realizations and we went our separate ways. Sometimes I can’t believe it’s already been seven years since we got married, but mostly I can’t believe it’s only been seven years. It feels like a thousand years ago, because I have had at least ten lifetimes since then.

My ex-husband and I are on good terms now and do touch base with each other from time to time. He is re-married and has a home in St. Louis. And he is happy. I don’t know if he feels the same way, but I am glad to have had those years with him. He’s an incredible person and is still part of who I am now.