“Welcome 2 Georgia,” the GPS says.  And then, “Welcome 2 Tennessee.” And then, “welcome 2 Georgia.”  I land at the house of friends who invited me many years ago and various times.  We talk over camper and trailer ideas, the husband knows lots mechanically and I’m trying 2 keep my eye on the prize here and keep looking at the fact that I do need 2 find a house and something 2 pull it with.  I’d love 2 just sink in and savor the fact that I’m 3 states from home, 20 more degrees warmer, and the innumerable ties and residue that I feel I’m shaking off.  And I do.  I’m already feeling some healing.  And I’m making some chai with the best ever almond nog that I had 2 bring  with me.  I talk with V as we sip tea by the wood stove.  I feel ever bit that I’m in Georgia – it fits what I was told it would look like; although I thought she was exaggerating.