Eight years ago, I was sitting in a sunroom with 4 of my dearest girlfriends. We were all in button down shirts, giggling and joking as two stylists transformed us into better versions of ourselves.
Eight years ago today, I got married. It was a beautiful outdoor ceremony under a canopy of blooming magnolia trees, with lights strung over the dance floor and the music of summer cicadas. The pictures are lovely and I am smiling from ear to ear; I couldn’t even feel my feet.
Next week marks the two-year anniversary of my divorce: May 29. I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about the marriage and its dissolution (and HOURS of therapy under my belt for the processing.) But I’m not here to recount; I just want to pause for a few minutes and remember.