Home seemed hours and hours and a long drive through traffic away when I walked this morning at Muhlenberg. All the plants were rained on, and in the grass of the park there were rain puddles. I took my final walk, and it started to rain and I was so glad because the humidity and heat were oppressive at 7:00 a.m. A day of closure and goodbyes ahead. And writing. Vanessa gave us a prompt for a poem. In my room, I wrote for an hour or so to prepare. We must all compose a poem from only the notes we took all week in her workshop. I get a poem done quickly that I actually like. In my Play Lab, the afternoon, we wrap up and say goodbye. Going to my car after packing I feel the familiar melancholy: transition. I have been so deeply present here. This week has mattered to my work, to my friendships, to my writing life. It’s a seven hour ride and I have wonderful company, a poet friend, the one I walked with our first day here. We talk and laugh for seven hours, even during the process of getting slightly lost in New York City. It’s tomorrow already, here in my bed, tonight. Charlie and Suzi surprised to see me. Perhaps, but not likely, they will let me sleep in.