I'll never love her.

Some days when my emotions are high and home feels far away, I get incredibly angry--almost vehement.  It seems more acceptable to publicly admit to feeling sadness or loneliness than to admit feeling anger, anger that makes you consider--picture in your head, even--smashing your coffee mug against the wall or knocking down the Christmas tree.  Anger aimed at inanimate objects because it's not any particular person's fault--only circumstances'.

So when home feels far away I begin to feel contempt for everything around me.  It usually hits when I'm driving on the interstate.  The fact that everything here is a 10-20 minute drive away isn't annoying--it's infuriating.  The overpasses are offensive.  The skyline is hideous. And the people in the cars all around me--they're insipid.  If it's also rush hour and someone behind me is closely tailgating, there's absolutely no calming down.  

I've been reflecting on these episodes of near-hatred a lot lately.  I even mentioned at my last confession: Father, I think my biggest issue these days is that I am very bitter about my state in life and where I am.  After I clarified a bit, he kindly and gently responded: Oh!  But the people here are so wonderful, don't you think?  They are so very, very nice.  I have been to other cities where this is not so, where people are cold and rude.  I told the priest that I wholeheartedly agree with him; Nashville residents are as kind as they come. Nashville residents are as kind as they come, but they are not Auglaize County residents.  They never will be.  I didn't explain this to the priest because I didn't have the words at the time, but I get it now.  

I have a stepmother, and her name is Nashville.

She's nice.  She's fun.  She's welcoming.  Everybody likes her.  I guess you could even call her pretty, although it's an artificial pretty--sharp contours, geometric silhouette, neon accents, that sort of thing.  But she isn't Minster.  She never will be.  There are interstates, not backroads; chains of Publix, no IGA; concrete, no cornfields.  You won't see relatives at the grocery store, can't rollerblade to your Grandma's house, shouldn't leave your car running at the post office.  There may be countless bars and restaurants for entertainment, but what I want is only one football game on a Friday night where each team represents its entire town.

I know it takes time to grow roots.  I'm sure I'll eventually be more contented here.  One day I'll even like Nashville.  But I'll never love her the same.