December 2006: It’s raining in England, and the grass seems to be turning to an even richer shade as I watch from my classroom window. The stark trees, only recently barren of their leaves, enhance the color. After three years of mud, I’m still startled by the green.
This is a great place to live. Everyone has a charming accent, two visits to a pub and you’re a regular, and the world is only a tube ride to Heathrow away. It’s true that my job here is more demanding than my last job, but what takes up my time is London. There is always something to do.
I have Paul to thank for bringing me here, and every day he does something that affirms our decision to be together. I used to hang on desperately to Emerson’s “to be great is to be misunderstood.” I still think he’s right. Now, I counter, that to be happy is to be understood. I am happy to my core.
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