All things Irish

My ex-husband was Irish.

Well, I suppose he still is.

Anyway, with St. Patrick's Day over the weekend, it gave me a wee opportunity to reflect (again?) on the past and where I am and why it's good.

This new me - Maggie 2.0 - is really who I am now. The me who was married to him was so long ago, she barely registers. Divorce was the price I paid to gain a life.

And so, surrounded by images of Guinness and shamrocks and pots o'gold, I gave a grateful thought to that guy. Grateful, you ask?

Yep. I'm grateful to that idiot for moving on to wife No. 3, and allowing me to grow into authentic Maggie. So much growth over the past seven years. Or is it six? Or eight? I don't even remember ... and it doesn't really matter.

I don't need to count, because the more time there is between me and my marriage, the less it counts. It's not that it didn't happen; it's just that it has no impact on my life now.

So, I guess the Irish luck is the one thing I got to keep in the divorce.

That ... and myself.