It’s Monday morning, and I’m back at Crossroads Writing Project, and its time for another Sacred Writing Prompt. Time to just write. I’m glad I don’t have to write to the prompt if I don’t want to because I am unfocused this morning. It’s Monday, and I am shifting gears back to CWP.

I need to write a reflective letter about my experience at CWP, or rather a couple of reflective pieces. But the one I am thinking about writing with this post isn’t one that I need to write.

It’s the fourth of the four-week session, and I am glad the end is near. Although this has been an amazing experience, and I have met so many great people, I am looking forward to returning to my real life and staying there. I am missed, and I miss it.

It’s the little things mostly. The things I do that no one else does. The not being able to talk to my husband about big and little things.

When I return home, things are different. Not bad but just different. And even after being there for just a couple of days, it reverts back to being the home I know and love. And now I’m gone again. Can I think of an example of what I mean? That’s harder because it isn’t anything really, just I can tell. When I came home, the house was clean, but in 15 minutes I do whatever it is I do, and the house is cleaner. I know where things are that no one else knows. And it’s not all about the house being clean or cleaner. There’s a well-worn groove in me that is filled by my family, and when I am away from them, I stumble over that empty groove. And when I return, it just feels so nice.

This weekend I mentioned to Amanda and Maxine that this was going to be the final week. They thought it was just the second week. And I realized why. The first week, the two of them were gone to their grandparents. The second week was a holiday week, so I was only gone a day and a half.

But coming back to CWP here feels good too. I walk in the room, and tons of smiles and good mornings greet me. Janet and I share a laugh as a small portion of my creamer misses part of my cup and floats to the ground in a white dust. As I set up my computer at my spot at the table, Danette asks me if I’d like a cinnamon roll. And in the time it takes me to plug in my laptop, she has it warmed up and is handing it to me. Homemade cinnamon roll. Mmmm.

But dorm life is dorm life. Heidi and I usually share a suite, but I noticed this morning as we checked in that one of the rooms was 106, which last week had a stinky smelly mattress. And so I asked for a new room. Instead of moving both of us, she only moved one of us and now we aren’t suite mates, which isn’t going to work. We share food, and we have a rhythm that works for our morning and night routines. And so after today, we will be working it out somehow.

And as I sit here thinking of all I need to do, the stuff from my real life that has been put on hold and can’t any longer (yes, Steve, I called. It’s all taken care of). And the stuff I meant to bring with me and didn’t (I forgot the bungie cord, I said, as we were spotting the first exit to Big Rapids. Why a bungie cord? Ah, because the dorm room doors are heavy, and almost impossible to prop open, but one of our bunch is a science teacher who had the bright idea of holding it open with a bungie cord. And so I was going to bring one and didn’t. Oh well, at least I remembered my toothbrush, right? Did I? Oh, yep, there it is. Dorm sweet dorm.