Mishpacha contributors share accounts of those special summers disconnected from the grind
When I was newly married, the world was my oyster.
And, whoa, did I abuse that oyster. I held down two jobs, freelanced on the side, and took a ten-month intensive course, all while I was learning the ropes of running a (tiny, two-adult, but still) household. In short, the oyster needed a serious polishing.
Our second summer as a couple rolled around, and it occurred to us that in the whole rush of settling into adulthood and pursuing exciting opportunities, we’d totally skipped a step in this whole marriage thing: honeymooning.
We took this very seriously and considered every one of the 50 states as a candidate for the privilege of hosting us that summer bein hazmanim. It was probably my husband’s fond memories of Lucerne, where he’d learned in the yeshivah of Rav Yitzchak Dov Koppelman ztz”l, that attracted us to “the Switzerland of America”: Colorado.
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