Father Dwight writes a poem, Driving Home.
What can I say? I've been down Highway One too. I don't know if I'll ever travel all the way back, go further away, or stay right here. I don't know if it's legitimate to give the place I grew up in the name 'home'. I don't know if going there will fix anything, or just bring me more sadness.
But I can see Highway One from here.
Good poem, Father.
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