What Happened When the Lesbians Moved To Town

Act #234: Really get to know someone.  You might be surprised at how alike you really are.

Last month the unthinkable happened to our quaint and quiet little town.  Two women packed up their belongings in a thriving city 2-hours north, and moved on in.  And we suspect they are not just roommates. 

It's hard for me to even write about this.  The way they look at each other.  The way they eagerly unloaded their hand-carved dining room table and African drums from the U-Haul truck.  Like they were going to settle down.  In my town.  Two women and their two cats, Zen and Banjo.  Not Fluffy, or Snowball, or Mittens.  What kind of people give their pets weird, sacrilegious names like Zen and Banjo?   I bet even the cats are female.  I hear that stuff can rub off on you.

I was told that one of them is a new professor at the college, and teaches in the Psychology department.  And the other is a therapist at the non-profit, community health center.  Why on earth would such a credentialed mental health professional and an accomplished educator give up their big city life to serve in our community?  Where will they buy their food and clothes?  For God's sake, WHO WILL CUT THEIR HAIR? 

I've been watching them from afar.  They shop at the farmer's market.  They grow vegetables.  And they dry and can their food. One of them even (gasp), mows their own lawn with a battery-operated lawn mower so that harmful emissions aren't released into the air.  This summer I watched as parades of adorable nieces and nephews came to visit, running and giggling through their home, making jewelry, wading in the local creek, playing Subway Surfer on their I-Phones, and participating in a host of other gay-indoctrinating activities.

I hear they've been a couple for six years and first met at the community mental health center that they were both employed.  You can't really tell just by looking at them, but if you walked by their beautiful, historic two-story in the evenings, you might see them watching the sunset together from their big wrap-around porch.  You might see them wave at neighbors, whom they already all know by name. You'll see them spontaneously invite people walking by, to join them for a cup of coffee or a glass of wine. 

Last month, the unthinkable happened to our quaint and quiet little town.  Two women moved in.  And because of them, this town is better, richer, and in many ways, still surprisingly ordinary.