I just realized that I didn’t write an entry about my three months on the road. All I wrote was a whiny post telling people to comment.
I don’t want to WHINE on my 3-MONTH ANNIVERSARY ON THE ROAD!
As has been pointed out, three months is the length of a season. Which appears to be quite appropriate, since I am now returning home.
I had a couple choice titles for my season, but I believe I shall call it…
The Season of My Soul.
Hm. Profound, and yet slightly trite. And yet the alliteration wins me over.
Alliteration always wins me over. 
I am currently outside Chicago, in a town called Anybody’s Guess, with my Aunt Dorothy… whom I have not seen in years, and who I have rarely seen my entire life. It’s been a wonderful visit with her, and I’m glad I stayed the night here. She has validated me in ways that I entirely didn’t expect, and I’m sure such assurances will prove helpful as I return home.
And then I played the flute. My native flute. I love my flute.
Very tired. But at least I can say I put in an entry for my 3-month.
It’s pretty amazing. Three months on the road. Traveling the country by myself.
Who would have thunk.
