So I got married and moved to NY. Now that I look at it from a distance, I married for all the wrong reasons. I did not want to get married to start with. I always thought that marriage a useless institution. So I surprised myself picking a dress and moving forward with all the social conventions. I guess I did not have anything better to do either. Preparing that wedding was my one and only job.
Well, I lie. During that time I went through a grueling selection process to get a job I always wanted… I finally got the offer but never took it because “I was getting married and moving out of the country.” I regretted this so many times after... until I got tired of regretting. If I regretted every single “bad choice” I made in my life, I would be brooding forever. And you never know what good you will end up extracting of the “bad choice”.
So I arrived in New York the last day of September of 2002, I had a couple of suitcases, a home, a husband and a lot of dreams. Six years later, July 16th 2008, I landed in Madrid with my little girl, a stroller, three suitcases, and part of my 401K money, the rest spent in moving back our stuff that, at that point, was floating somewhere in the Atlantic. My dreams were long gone and, as my dear Iranian brother said “I looked like a ghost.” Probably because I felt like one.
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