"You can take the boy out of the mountains, but you can't take the mountains out of the boy."

Said so well by my lovely mother on the phone today.

JD is homesick and tired and ready to be done. He is entirely unmotivated to continue knocking the doors of classless, rude, obnoxious homeowners. He does not want to deal with folks with poor credit, poor manners, or so-called poor bank accounts (Really, people? I feel like the safety of your home and family is probably worth 50 bucks. Even we, as college students, could afford 50 dollars a month if we wanted. There's the difference. You can afford it. You just don't want it. Be clear.) I could go on and on with the list of complaints JD comes home with at the end of every day. But, clearly, it's an unpleasant topic.

Instead, let's talk about the mountains. Let's talk about camping. Let's talk about the cool breeze and the smell of burning wood mixed with savory meat and veggies on the campfire. Let's talk about the tent that's been patiently waiting in a tub in the back corner of a dark storage unit for 4 months to get out and see the sunlight. Let's talk about the sunset and the quiet feeling of contentment that's waiting in a little grove of trees to meet up with us come a few weeks from today. Let's talk about JD's home. The home that has started calling me back, too.