There was nothing wrong with him, nothing wrong with me. But I wore despair and denial like a heavy winter coat—my dream, to voyage out like Freya Stark and discover myself amidst the sands of Arabia. I denied myself study abroad in college and backpacking through Europe, shuffling from school to a “good job” and finally a big Catholic wedding to a really nice guy who I loved and couldn’t see beyond.
My ring even held the promise of travel. A simple gold
band with twelve small diamonds, it was both wedding and engagement ring. As
the date of our wedding had approached, my then-fiance was in his second year
of law school, and his money was going to tuition and car payments. He couldn’t
see peeling out a few grand for a matching band, so instead of a wedding ring,
he promised we’d put the money toward a future trip. “Wouldn’t that be better?”
he offered.
By Kristin Zibell (to be continued)
