I got married a month ago. For this 38-year-old-never-been-married single gal, planning the wedding was quite an adventure. I also moved to Alabama (the farthest south I've ever put down roots). I'm not sure at what point you are supposed to "feel" married. I do know that life with my husband feels like it was always supposed to be. Maybe all those years apart mean I don't take what I have for granted. I'm incredibly blessed and humbled by this precious gift I've been given.
I find myself, more than ever, thinking about my parents and the way they treat each other. Thinking about my mother and how she takes care of my father. Those kinds of things. At woman at the gym asked if I was Mrs. Lofland and it took me awhile to figure out that she was referring to me.
But now that the swirl of planning and moving and waking up in the morning trying to plan an event for 200+ people with a looming deadline is over, a bit of clarity is taking place. My manuscript is calling. It went pretty silent there for a while, patiently waiting. But it's getting louder and louder, and I need to get back to it.