A fairy tale. That is what some of my more romantically inclined friends called it when, at the ripe old age of forty-four, I unexpectedly announced my engagement. I was a confirmed old maid, happy to play the role of the fun auntie and content with my quiet little life. I had my family, my friends, my little dog, and life was peaceful and good. I’d long declared myself too set in my ways to ever consider marriage so very few people suspected that the relationship with “my friend in England” had grown and matured beyond that of mere friendship. We had kept it quiet, wanting to give ourselves time without the close scrutiny and speculation bound to come if one and all knew we were more than just friends, until the day came when we discovered we no longer wanted to live thousands of miles apart and travel singly through life. “My friend in England” had become my best friend in all the world and it seemed impossible to continue life without him. And so in the space of a year everything changed. I, who for twenty years worked diligently at changing as little as possible, changed everything. I quit my job, sold my car, sold nearly everything and left family and friends far behind to marry a man from the United Kingdom. Continue reading →