It has taken me a long time to write this post, even with its lack in richness.
Almost three years ago, in a time far away it seems, I went to Bermuda with the love of my life, Ron. He’s still my one great love.
After we broke up and I became involved with my abusive ex-fiancee, I divulged my innermost thought: Bermuda was the best time of my life.
SH (abusive ex) didn’t take too fondly to this memory. He sought to stomp it out.
One day, quite out of the blue, SH informed me we were taking an all-expense paid vacation. On his dime. To Bermuda.
We jet-stetted to Bermuda, my old haunts exposed to my new boyfriend. He proposed on our last night. Pregnant, nostalgic and lonely (I suppose), I said yes.
I have the Bermudian two dollar note from Ron and I have another note, only less tattered, from my trip with my ex-fiancee.
Both are constant reminders of love, loss and recovery.