The Age Gap

I could never have imagined marrying someone seven years older than me.  I mean, do the math - when he got his drivers license I was 9.  While he was drinking a beer at an Alabama football game, I was 11.  

The dating world welcomed me, but tossed me around like a ship lost at sea.  From musicians to teachers, I always though I had found "the one", but remained the bridesmaid.  

Tired of losing myself in relationship after relationship, I took a summer and went to upstate New York to study music.  Freedom, lakes, and cold weather in July wiped my slate clean and helped me remember how I liked my eggs.  

Welcomed back to the Peach State and all of the "Hi Y'alls" that I missed, I wasn't even thinking about dating.  I was independent now and didn't need a boyfriend.  

Then, among magnolias, beer tents, and funnel cake I met my husband.  Enjoying the jam bands that Atlanta summer festivals are known for, we found ourselves yelling over the melody longing to get to know each other.  Catching a glimpse and accidentally locking eyes, we both felt something.

Pages of the calendar flew by, and I found myself spending a day on the local lake basking in the sun once again.  A special dinner was promised that evening and anticipation filled the air.  

Those same magnolias set the stage for a bottle of champagne, but still no promise for the future.  Dinner was in a hotel high above the bustling streets of Atlanta complete with silver platters and a wait staff that made me feel like a Princess.  

Laughter, drinks, and amazing food bled into dessert.  My plate arrived and the next thing I knew, he was on his knee.  

Then, the whole world shifted.  

This post was written for The Red Dress Club's Red Writing Hood challenge. The post must begin with "I could never have imagined" and end with "Then the whole world shifted". It must be no more than 600 words. I welcome constructive criticism from anyone who kindly takes the time to read my work.