This End is not the End
I am sitting at the computer at my house in Harrisonburg, thinking back to week ago and it doesn't feel real. On one hand, it feels as though I never left. My dear, devoted friends still come over and swim and the pool or drink tea with me. We still talk about Touring Choir and EMHS. I still go to church and the unchanging faces of adults from my childhood are still faithfully in the pews (though actually its chairs now because of the construction). When I go over to the Myer's house, we still watch British period dramas as if there was nothing new to talk about. My family is still here, still bantering, still being obsessively organized and still loving. It's as if I never left. But, in a way, I feel as though I never left Johnstown. I still marvel at this house that isn't falling apart (and though I thought I'd never miss the rotted flooring, I do almost). My dear unit family still comes to my mind so often and so much of what I see I wish I could laugh about wit...