It’d be a lie to say that I didn’t have second thoughts about getting on the trail today.
Those thoughts started the second I woke up. I was lying in my old bed at my parents house, where I’d been sleeping ever since my apartment lease ended last Friday. The warmth of thick heavy blankets was, as usual, hard to depart from. But even more persistent in begging me to stay was that overwhelming feeling that’s impossible to escape at one’s childhood home: nostalgia. ...
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