That
Thanksgiving Break, my husband and I planned a week long trip to Amsterdam.
Our first day there would be my 33rd birthday.
I was in the middle of a serious identity crisis, the things I
thought I wanted weren’t working, weren’t happening like I’d
planned, weren’t bringing me the sort of happiness I was searching
for, so I went to Amsterdam and tried to figure out what I should do
next. While in Amsterdam, I carried a notebook everywhere. I filled two during that one week there. I wrote about everything I saw and how I felt being there. I put one letter after the other, trying to figure out where I had gone wrong in my life. I had to keep reminding Eric when he complained that I was spending so much time writing that he knew I was a writer when he married me, but I think it was me that I was reminding.
© Salahub 2003 |