Mt. Airy, Maryland

Although my fingers are begging to put hard journal onto computer keys it is Saturday, and everyone wants a ride. For now it will have to be enough that I get to check my mail, write this note, and wash my socks in the bathroom sink on the way out the front door. The people have been beyond wonderful these last few weeks. I have lived with the Amish, a carpenter and his family, church guest homes---even a stranger named John that heard my story, looked out at the water-logged weather, and then offered to set me up in a hotel all expenses paid. Winter may be here, but the people have opened like it is spring. When I miss a night or two in the woods the hawks pretend not to know me no longer trading chirp for chirp, and the morning squirrels grumble barks at me as if we have never met. In a day I smell natural again, shaking the lingering perfume of soaps In two days we are all related again.