July 8, 2012
I have been outrageously busy, and thus have neglected this poor diary of mine. However, I hope that this will soon be remedied. There have been many memories with the children who have been staying here at the University and I could never hope to tell them all. Let us just say that it has been wonderful and that I will no doubt carry the experiences with me. Perhaps they have even better prepared me for the adventures I plan for.
There is one particular memory I do wish to share. Ever since my encounter with the Hermit, I have wondered about what he had said. It has largely worked and I am glad of the success. However, it has set me to thinking. I was picking blackberries outside. Despite the heat and drought, there has been just enough rain to produce a few. I was alone until Ellen, the girl attacked by the giant spiders, came to join me. It was nice. We sat and chatted. It has been a while since I was able to do so with someone. You see, Ellen has been gone for some weeks now and only recently returned. Life is so strange. Gone, our friends and family seem a distance ache; we could live without them, but we still feel it there. But present. When you sit and pick blackberries, have lunch, dinner, whatever with friends and family there is the need for them there. It is like shelter. We can survive living in a hut or a tent, but there is something about living in a house that runs far above the others.
We quit picking early. The heat was monstrous, though I have already begun to become accustomed to it. Others, however, have not and I would never go so far as to say that I was comfortable either. Still. There is the desire to stay. Because now I must remember the words of the hermit. And after living in a house, it is all the more difficult to return to my one-room sod-house. Glorious experiences or no.