Home
Home. Dreary gray clouds hanging low in the sky. The old brown mill reaching towards heaven. The white sycamore trees dancing in the wind. No snow. This is Mingo Junction.
Everything very much the same. Everything very much different.
How did a year pass already?
Titus, my dog, sitting at the top of the driveway almost as if he had been waiting there for a year. How old he looks. How old everything looks.
I forgot how dreary this place is in the winter. I forgot how brown everything is. But I don’t care. Because I’m home!
