by Lizette Roman-Johnston
I’m not one of those people who loves their job. Maybe I’d love it if they were paying me above minimum wage so my family can afford electricity, but in the meantime, I don’t see a need to find something else that pays more. Like I keep telling my wife, it’s not always about the money. Sometimes payment comes in unexpected forms. She always storms off when I say this, usually to continue sewing school clothes for our children by candlelight. She nags and nags me to get a higher paying job — You have a goddamn Master’s degree, she always says — and I just have to laugh, because, every day I come home from work, I triumphantly place our shared water bottle on the kitchen counter, and even though she rolls her eyes at first, she always takes a long, blissful gulp of that freezing cold water from work, and in that moment, I know it’s all worth it.