When I moved back home, it was hard to adjust. Same place, same beautiful summer, same trains. But different people, different job, different me. For a while, I couldn’t find my feet. Several events had knocked them out from under me. I didn’t know who to talk to. I didn’t know what to do.

But then I got a dog. And I have laughed about every day ever since.

My feet are back.

Life is good.


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