Our last day. Always bitter sweet. We leave the chickadees behind and head home and for the next while try to imagine ourselves back here. Then we come back and pick up the chickadees and life goes haywire again.
I have to go pack the car, figure out where I've buried the keys, change my shoes, unsweat myself, find the keys again, check under around in the beds, etc, look for the keys, rearrange the bags my husband puts in,...
All the while trying to figure out if there is a place I can hide myself away so no one notices and stay another couple weeks. Maybe that's why I keep losing the keys.
I wouldn't put it past me.