I Use To Be A Ms.'s

My cell phone rang, I answered it. On the other end of the line was my auntie. Dear, sweet auntie Dianne. She said she was just calling to tell me that she was wearing the dress that she wore to my wedding some years back. Why she deemed it necessary to do so I didn't ask but I thanked her gladly for calling and dredging up a painful memory. Not that I had to dig to far down to find it, but that is not the point. My mind allows me to think of my days of being a bride more than it should. It needs not a piece of clothing to sling me into fits of remembrance.

I was married roughly 3 years. I use the term roughly because I was "released" two weeks shy of my third wedding anniversary. Being "released" has been the gift that has kept on giving. It has kept on giving me sleepless nights, itchy fingers sifting through old photos and plenty of thoughts of what might have been. In case your wondering, I am no longer in love with former groom and no longer in awe with the idea of being a Ms.'s either. The former groom has moved on and if I am a favorite in the eye of God, is living miserably and uncomfortably with his new wife. I know I shouldn't wish dire unhappiness upon someone but I believe its warranted in this case due the fact that he sent me directly into a life filled further with self-doubt and self-hatred. I did learn to pick my own battles. I also learned that cooler heads prevail in any situation, but I would never dare say thank you to former groom for those gifts or would I?

"Thank you, thank you very much for all you have given to me".