I write to you while utilizing all the elements of my natural habitat– enormous sweater filled with holes, tall wooly socks, soup on the stove, bread in the oven, Law & Order in the background, seltzer to my right.
After the cornfields and the sky and the long drive to Cincinnati and the rain while we slept and art and tall sandwiches with friends under neon lights and that last stretch across Ohio and the left-hand side of Pennsylvania, night fell as I entered Huntingdon, dark grey, river flowing, Beard waiting behind the building.
It has been an exceedingly pleasant homecoming.
In the mornings the three-legged eagle screams outside our door. Pleasantly, nothing has changed. Our soundscape remains: the motorcycle revving outside the Friendly Tavern, the train burning through our back windows, the cat looking for food, always.
For endless enjoyment, please take a gander at this video of Jake playing catch with our young ward.
I must extend a sincere thank you to the one who is bearded for keeping the home fires burning and keeping the cat alive. The scones on the stove are the ones that are for you.