the trip westward.

3 Oct
A week ago, I drove westward on the roads I know well – the ones that lead from St.Paul to Dawson.  I was making a quick Sunday night venture to gnomeville to give Karen, admin extraordinaire, a HUGE hug.  That really was my only object; everything else was extra.  Karen’s father had passed away suddenly and my heart goes out to anyone with that experience or any kind of sudden family death.  The hug was delivered to Karen at the visitation.  Check.  And then I was blessed with lots of hugs beyond that.  It was wonderful to see many of my former coworkers, though under such icky circumstances.
It was sad.  It was wonderful.  It was weird.  Dawson is no longer my current home.  Grace is no longer my church.  There is a new intern.  It felt a bit strange … which in many ways was a good piece of closure for me as I continue to move forward in my school year, but in other ways the grief continued as a reminder that it is different, over, and never will return.  Please don’t misunderstand me – I love it still.  I felt welcomed.  But it’s … very different.  (As is only to be expected.)
I spent the night in Dawson and was greeted at the place of my stay by four giddy girls, jumping up and down, yelling, “Noodles!” to every car that passed that wasn’t mine.  These four girls greeted me with a cheer, with hugs, and by making me run through the banner they made me —
It was super sweet.  The banner now hangs on the wall of my bedroom.  I love it.
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