My husband has once again been let down by a potential employer. Another message on the machine, after the hopes swelled, after the promising interview, the calls, the haircut, the color-coordinated tie and shirt. This is our tenth year of living here, brought here by a job in 2000 that vanished in 2002. Years of searching, of working overseas, me alone here, working, lonely. Trying to settle in, to be part of, but always feeling on the outside looking in.
If only you knew how rare his talents; how multiple! Science, mathematics, music, software design, teaching, construction... I have never met anyone as gifted. Or as kind, as my husband.
The irony is that I love the sky, the trees, lakes, seasons, even the dirt of this northern land. I am inspired to write a beautiful book about Abundant Life and the fantastic closeness to God that I sense here in the snow or walking at dawn and hearing the birds.
But, there is always the society, marking my difference. No, I don't say 'wicked' or 'bubbler.'
Today, I detest the conformity of this place: Redsox hoodies, those ubiquitous hats with the capital B, the stoutness, the piercings, the tattoos on everybody, the gum-chewing crassness.
Today, I despise the self-righteous, ignorant snobbery of this narrow-minded, corrupt, little state with its hooked claw sticking out into the ocean.
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