Leaving Montreat, my home this summer, is going to be incredibly difficult. Though I had never come here prior to the summer, I settled in and rapidly made friends who I will dearly miss: I'm already making mental plans for a trip to Chicago next spring. (Jeff and D, you know you will need some southern "Kate Hudson" in your life.)
The barn dances, pottery, moose meals, porch time, hiking Lookout, energizers, and all other Montreat traditions will be sorely missed. I love my friends, the quiet town of Black Mountain, and this beautiful valley surrounded by the Blue Ridge Mountains. I remember driving here soon after graduation, full of nervous excitement. Like my upcoming trip this weekend, I was traveling to a place I had never before been, to live and work with people I had never met. Now, I'm dreading the goodbyes to all of the wonderful people with whom I have spent my summer.
I hate goodbyes. Sunday is going to be rough. I don't like to cry in public and so I would prefer to keep the airport farewell party brief and painless as possible, but I'm not sure that's realistic thinking. How will I not cry, saying goodbye to my family, knowing that I won't see them for six months? I'm going to bawl. I guess I can cry out my tears and then compose myself, and fix my makeup in the bathroom before my flight leaves. Game plan set.
I truly am excited for the start of the Discipleship Training School (DTS.) I cannot wait to meet the fellow students in the program. Give me twenty-four hours in Las Vegas and I will tell you that I am adapting nicely and have made new friends, thank you very much.
Right now, I should probably begin packing. I can't procrastinate much longer.
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