I'm not sure what I expected, though history is not in my favor. Two summers ago saw me sobbing on the plane next to a very uncomfortable woman, and walking around at my job like the living dead until I finally moved into my first college dorm room.
Here I am, back from Italy and probably the most important life experience so far, and I'm completely fine. I miss it, but like I missed my family while I was gone. I knew I'd see them soon.
I could tell you every detail since I've gotten back, but who wants to read that much? I will say that the Blue Ridge Mountains rival any Renaissance Cathedral, and, best of all, I feel as though they're mine. I can't wait to drive up to Shenandoah and disappear for a few hours among the trees - it's a nice change from disappearing among centuries-old stone and crowds of tourists.
I'm home, but I'm not going anywhere. Keep checking back here.
