I Met My Husband in 1943

I was on a plane traveling to New Zealand.  When I got on the plane it was 2010.  When I got off the plane.  It was 1943.  Yes, that’s right.  Somehow we traveled through some kind of time warp, and arrived more than 50 years in the past.  My friends Saz and Si were with me, and did not seem concerned that were no longer in present day.  It was like they didn’t even remember being in the 21st century.  How odd.  We made our way to our accommodations for the trip.  A cute little bungalow home on the beach.  It was a friend of theirs (which I considered odd, since we were no longer in our time, even though we were in their hometown).  He was a tall, dark and sweet young gentleman (our age), who lived with his father in this cute little bungalow.

Our time there was quite pleasant.  We took in the sights, complete with a classic 40’s Holden.  Although, reflecting, it wasn’t a classic at the time.  We were only supposed to be visiting for a couple of weeks, but we remained longer. As we did, this tall, dark and handsomely familiar gentleman (why was he familiar?), whom I had grown very close to, had brought something to light that I wasn’t expecting.

He asked me to stay forever.

Not just move to New Zealand and live in their quaint little city.  But to be his wife.

Then it hit me.  If I become his wife in 1943, what would become of me in 2010?  Wouldn’t this completely wreak havok on the space time continuum? If I accepted his endearing proposal of marriage, would I even exist in my present? My future? Would I become my own grandmother?  How could I stay with the man who so obviously loved me, but not mess up the timeline of my life? Not only my life, but my family’s life, even the life of complete strangers.

I had so many questions.  And not enough plausible answers.  I had to make the toughest decision of my life.

I had to leave him.

I had to leave him behind in 1943.

And then I woke up.

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