Several months ago while traveling through Peru, my husband and I had some intense conversations. In all the years we’ve known each other the trip allowed us to open up and tell the stories within the stories.
We were walking a plaza in downtown Cuzco when I shared that I had left everything with my first husband. He listened. I didn’t realize I hadn’t shared the details of my break-up when I was 22 years old with two babies. He knew the bullet points. He knew the Cliff Note version. He had openly shared some personal things about his previous marriage from when he was younger. I shared as a matter of fact without even seeing the reoccurrences of so many other things.
“You realize you have a pattern, right?” He said looking at me across the table in the most quaint cafe of the plaza.
“What do you mean…
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