I dreamed tonight of Sewanee. Westminster Abbey must have done it. So much there was like All Saint's Chapel: the rose window, the fun of hunting for inscriptions on the walls, the immensity of the space, the vaults of the ceiling, the Evensong service.
Sewanee has always felt like a hub for the experiences in my life; every event and person that means anything to me seems tied back there by a string. And if a person or event isn't tied there, I knot it tightly on purpose. So don't be surprised if you are very dear to me and you find yourself dragged to Sewanee with some excuse or another. The real reason is that you are being knotted to that place and into my life forever.
It's strange to be on this much longed-for vacation and to wake up homesick, not for Meridian or for Atlanta, but for Sewanee.
