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THE NARRATIVE ARC
The Painful Moment I Knew My First Marriage Was Dead
The realization happened in the most unexpected of places
The vacation could have been worse, but it could have been so much better.
We had reached a critical point in the marriage, and I wondered how the trip would go. After nine years engaged in an uneasy tango, the music was winding down. Our dance was emblematic of a union that had been on a downward trajectory from its early days.
It started on our honeymoon — our first vacation as a married couple. We wandered the streets of Cabo San Lucas on a lazy afternoon, the midday winter sun blazed hot in this vacation paradise. A crush of colorfully dressed tourists from the nearby cruise ships strolled the streets of the town. Amid this scene, we walked hand-in-hand, fueled by youthful exuberance and strong margaritas.
As we made our way through the sleepy beach town, we discovered an old Catholic church, its entrance barred by a locked iron gate. We climbed the steps leading to an arched doorway and peered inside, our eyes taking in the opulence of the artifacts contained within the church walls. As my gaze traveled over the gold and jewel encrusted ornaments, I made an offhand comment about the stark contrast between the wealth contained…
