I got married nearly 4 months ago on 12.12.12. I'm not your average married lady. Eli (pronounced Elly) and I got married in a beautiful garden in Mexico. Our friends and family were there to celebrate with us; mine even flew in from Washington State. After the wedding, we honeymooned in Playa del Carmen and, although I missed Christmas with my family, I got to spend that week on the beach with my new husband. After the honeymoon, we went home. Sounds normal, right?
Not normal at all. Home for me is a two bedroom condo in Everett. I have a corner unit on the 3rd floor. It has lots of natural light and a super cozy feel to it. My friends have teased me that it looks like a home from "Pinterest" or a "model home". I don't mind. I love decorating my house and making it mine. Yes, I'm a little OCD and thrive on making sure it always looks perfect - but it is my home. It's always been mine; no roommates and I've never lived with someone I was dating. So now that we're married, Eli should be moving in. We should be combining households and saving money to someday buy that big house that we've both dreamed of. Instead, while I was on a plane to Seattle. Eli was making himself home at his parents house in Mexico. I told you this wasn't a normal situation.
See, in November 2011, Eli was deported to Mexico. Actually, the correct terminology is "removed". I hate both words. All I've ever wanted was to make a home with my husband. That's why I never moved in with any of my boyfriends or allowed them to move in with me. Call me "old-fashioned" but I wanted to do things the right way. In my mind, I couldn't live with someone unless we were serious about getting married. It's one of those things I've always stuck to - like never smoking a cigarette, I just knew it wasn't for me.
So here I am: 30, Married & Living Alone. It's not as bad as it might sound. After all, I do have an amazing husband. He just happens to live 2,836 miles away from me. This blog is our story...
