This week, ten years ago, I was living in California, working at a job I hated and taking pottery and ballroom dance classes. I played badminton for exercise. I was single and went to happy hour with my girlfriend every Friday night.
This week, seven years ago, I was living in Washington DC with a roommate and nursing a broken heart. My boyfriend, the one I thought I had a future with, had just dumped me while we were on vacation in Boston. I worked all the time, often traveling more than three weeks a month, and had just started grad school at night.
This week, five years ago, my dad died. I had just finished grad school and gotten engaged. I was shell shocked from so many life changes occurring at once.
beautiful Quebec. I had just gotten married and started a little blog.
Chicago. I was dreaming of moving to Wicker Park and reconsidering my position on never having kids.
This week, this year, I'm eating Ethiopian food and going yurt camping in Maryland with my husband and five and a half month old baby. Today, I turn 33 and (in both a good way and a bad way) I still can't really believe this is my life.