Boston was the perfect rebound relationship. It was big, messy, gorgeous, full of new sights and smells and a blissful anonymity; no one cares, walking down a busy Boston street, if I don’t have a boyfriend, if I screwed up at work, or even if I’m having a bad hair day.
Just over a year ago, I was living in Arkansas, and I was lost. It was a gorgeous Ozark fall, and I was staring down my 38th year, single, not a boyfriend in sight. I had just gone through an amiable but incredibly emotional breakup with my job, leaving a place to which I’d givenContinue reading “When the place fits”