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.