Thursday, May 18th
Throughout the trip I’d considered writing letters to tell people how I was, but didn’t. Underneath what I thought might be simple laziness swirled my desire to leave behind that old life, old attitudes, and only make contact once I’d become new, or at least closed the circle of the journey. Now I felt ready.
I’d made my way to Boise, Idaho, and held tentative plans to reach Pullman, Washington. That’s where WSU was, and not much else—except Mary Sue.
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