Massabesic Lake is the same, yet different. The woods are so open now. It was still summer when I left. (at Manchester, New Hampshire) High-res

Massabesic Lake is the same, yet different. The woods are so open now. It was still summer when I left. (at Manchester, New Hampshire)

This tree/bush is called something like Japanese choke weed. It’s all along this section of the Rockingham Recreational Trail. It’s lovely and creates hidden deer paths but is an invasive. (at Auburn, New Hampshire) High-res

This tree/bush is called something like Japanese choke weed. It’s all along this section of the Rockingham Recreational Trail. It’s lovely and creates hidden deer paths but is an invasive. (at Auburn, New Hampshire)

If I pretend not to hear the traffic on 93, I can almost imagine myself back on The Way. Though the air totally smells like home. (at Auburn, New Hampshire) High-res

If I pretend not to hear the traffic on 93, I can almost imagine myself back on The Way. Though the air totally smells like home. (at Auburn, New Hampshire)

My flight to Madrid was uneventful. As was my five hour layover. I realized that I left my necklace containing Neal’s ashes hanging on the hotel mirror. So I spent quite a bit of time texting back-and-forth with Nick. After some time he arranged to... High-res

My flight to Madrid was uneventful. As was my five hour layover. I realized that I left my necklace containing Neal’s ashes hanging on the hotel mirror. So I spent quite a bit of time texting back-and-forth with Nick. After some time he arranged to have a Mormon sister who lives in Santiago pick up my necklace and bring it home with her to the states. She’ll mail it to me. This Air France plane arrived 35 minutes late. Which meant that when we reached Paris for our connecting Boston flight we had to run. Like really run. We arrived at the gate at the very last minute with a handful of frantic airline employees rushing us through and onto the plane. 8 ½ hours later I was standing in Boston. So good to be home!

When I arrived at the Santiago airport at 4:15 Monday morning, I was the only one there. At 5:15 the cafeteria opened and I drank my last cafe con leche on Spanish soil. And a tall glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. High-res

When I arrived at the Santiago airport at 4:15 Monday morning, I was the only one there. At 5:15 the cafeteria opened and I drank my last cafe con leche on Spanish soil. And a tall glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.