Our first living space in Massachusetts was an apartment on the South Shore of Boston. My partner grew up there, and he chose a place near the Blue Hills Reservation where he had worked in his youth. It is a beautiful area with trails around Ponkapoag Pond. Great Blue Hill served as a welcoming landmark to a recent transplant like me.
Jim’s elderly parents lived nearby in another South Shore suburb. We moved to the area so that Jim could help his siblings with caregiving. That turned out to be a good decision. Jim’s mom passed away a couple of months after our move. His father died two years later, after many health issues. I had met Jim’s parents a couple of times before when we visited in the summer from West Virginia where Jim and I met. Having gotten to know them a little better after the move, I am sorry we didn’t have more time to spend together.
Our apartment complex in Canton was quiet and modest. I moved in by myself while Jim stayed in Alexandria, Virginia, for a few weeks to pack things in our old apartment. My queen-sized bed was still down there so I slept on a rectangle of memory foam on the floor of the empty bedroom.
A few weeks earlier, I had finally snagged a contract job in downtown Boston. Having resigned from my DC gig due to burnout, I had the especially difficult task of finding another assignment while not working (and in another state!).
This new job was at a financial services company. It would be a new environment for me, having never worked at a bank.
On weekday mornings, I would drive to the station for the commuter rail. It got to the point where I could time the number of minutes it would take to get there. I often pulled into the parking lot shortly before the train appeared, as many people did.
Sometimes the train was late. I would wait on the platform with the other commuters, many of whom had probably been doing this for years. I tried to smile and greet people in an attempt to fit in.
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