The Wrong Turn That Was Right

We were in a town whose name I still can’t pronounce, following a little paper map that looked more like a pirate treasure chart than anything useful.

You were sure the café was “just this way.” I was sure it wasn’t. We argued, then laughed, then followed your route out of stubbornness. Ten minutes later, we found not the café, but a street fair we hadn’t known was happening live music, food stalls, people dancing in the road.

We never found the café. But we did find cinnamon-sugar donuts and a memory we still talk about. Turns out, some wrong turns are exactly right.