The thought first entered my mind two weeks after the wedding.
I sat on the edge of the bed in the Extended Stay hotel and wished I was Dorothy. Three clicks of my heels just might deliver me back into the one-bedroom apartment I lived in three weeks earlier.
In one month we had gotten married, moved to a new state for the first time – ever – for both of us, bought a house, sold a house, and were starting new jobs.
Now we were living in an Extended Stay as we waited to move, and we were also having our first fight – over coffee, of all things.
I made a mistake. I chose poorly. I married the wrong person.
These were the thoughts running through my head. But now I was married. There was no do-over this time.
Yesterday I was over at Intentional by Grace sharing this story and what I have since learned from it. Continue over there to read whether I truly did marry the wrong person.
Image courtesy of arztsamui/FreeDigitalPhotos.
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