5.6
It's difficult for me to find the words to encompass the past few weeks at St. Dorothy's Rest, and something inside me has prevented me from writing. But here I am, because I know later on I will be thankful for every piece of evidence I can look back on that this year happened and was very real, even if this kind of evidence feels a bit contrived. It is beautiful here and often I feel as though I'm living in a dream. We're surrounded by fields of green and tall trees that reflect the sunlight in the most perfect way. Often I walk out to a look out spot at the perimeter of the property at the end of day and watch the sky change colors ever so subtly. The sunsets here don't scream at you, like they did in Vegas. There are no explosions of color, no lava or cotton candy pouring out of the clouds, or if there are, we can't see them from where we are. Instead, it's the slightest change from baby blue to light grey to pale pink, a change so delicate it could ea...