Emily Dickinson wrote, "My friends are my estate." Pavement, grass, and the path of Pirate's Cover underfoot, we've trodden every inch of Yale Avenue - together. We've taken turns about the R's English-style garden, stepping stones leading the way. We have climbed into what used to be a tree house big enough for three in my parent's backyard and spent time on the hill between Steven's and Robinson's, all of these estates, grounds and paths we know by heart.
As the song of summer commences, we will all embark upon paths anew: to Wales, to Italy, to Paris. To new jobs and new endeavors, whether a passport is required or not. Paths of freedom. Paths of self-discovery. Paths on the stepping stones to True Love. Let us carry with us this feeling of
together; this feeling of estate. Always with Home in mind: dirt from Pirate's Cove, grass from Stevens' front lawn, and lavender from the Rhondeau's white picket fenced garden; pieces of Home forever in our pockets. Together, but apart, we will continue. Firm and constant.
"Be slow to fall into friendship; but when thou art in, continue firm and constant."
{Socrates}
K, I couldn't resist. With Europe only so many months away...it seemed all too perfect. Pack that super glue!
Bon voyage, buon viaggio and happy trails to you, A, E, and K. Pourriez vous s'il vous plaît écrire une fois? (Post/write once, if you can -- et merci). We will actually completely and very muchly miss you! We'll keep watch here on Yale's home front. Be safe. Don't do anything I wouldn't do (K and A, pretty sure you'll toss this out the window tout de suite), take lots of pictures, and have the time of your lives! 
