“A man cannot be comfortable without his own approval.”
– Mark Twain
I cross under the mountain tunnel, take Exit 1, my heart flutters—I’m almost there.
I haven’t visited my college since October, and I’m coming back to tell my stories, to see my friends, to visit a place that used to be a home. What a contrast a place can provide when the old person and the new person suddenly and seamlessly coexist.
I walk up the hill and onto the quad. I see Dr. Merritt pacing back and forth on the phone. He hands me a copy of The Bluestone Review, a literary magazine that has just been released that evening. I flip to my poem and read the familiar words as he continues his conversation.
After a few minutes, he looks at me and whispers an apology.
“Is Mrs. Merritt in her office?” I ask.