This is my friend Elizabeth. She kidnapped me pretty much as soon as I arrived at her home. I decided that the best course of action was to develop an immediate, advanced case of Stockholm Syndrome and enjoy myself. I'd had a rough few days, so being taken off to a location I couldn't possibly ever find again - the sort of old family summer home that has a massive fireplace, a deep front porch, and a moose on the wall, and smells like old books, where everything is comfortable, fixable, and has a story - to eat sausages and corn on the cob, dig for fossils, drink wine, sleep in a twin bed next to a giant window fan, pick blueberries for a pie, scratch dogs behind their ears, and get to know some new and interesting people was pretty much the bees knees.
I visited Gettysburg when I was finally released back into civilization, wandering among the graves and statues, trying hard to imagine the battles that had taken place on what was now peaceful fields full of chicory. We went to a movie and had dinner at a great place, then took a quick tour of Carlisle, one of the many towns in which Elizabeth grew up. Her dad taught at the US Army War College, so she moved around a lot, and has an interesting perspective on home and place.
Pennsylvania was a relief. I felt light, refreshed, and able to move forward.