On an unseasonably warm Tuesday afternoon, right between two national holidays, we were married in Topeka, KS.
If you’d told me then, that exactly eleven years later I’d be living in south Texas with four children, sixteen weeks pregnant with my fifth, I’d probably have told you, “Are you serious? I’d have thought we’d have 6 kids by then, but there’s no way we live in Texas. We don’t like to be hot. We don’t even like the sun.”
For the record, I don’t want to know where I’ll be living eleven years from now.
I like surprises.