Well, I made it.
I finished my exams on Friday, handed them in 20 minutes before the due date, and promptly made plans to go to the pub (while still standing at the printer, no less!). After having a few pints, playing some pool, and devouring a delicious meal, I wandered back toward Fulford Rd. with my friend, Philip, who I met through the Minster (and who is a PhD candidate in Nuclear Physics at the univ.). The evening didn't seem to be over, and so Philip produced a bottle of gin and some unopened tonic water, which was the birth of a long and glorious conversation about all sorts of things that lasted well into the night.
I spent Saturday in town, making to Evensong that night, and, exhausted, went to bed (relatively) early.
The following day, Trinity Sunday, I made sure I looked smart and then walked to the Minster earlier than usual in order to make it in time to snag a good seat for David's ordination. The service-- though rather long-- was wonderful, and the party afterwards was great fun. After going through too much champagne, I attended Evensong, got roped into attending choral practice, and then ate a wonderful stew at the House of Trembling Madness before walking back to Fulford with Philip.
I give you this brief (and context-less) rundown of my weekend simply to say that it is because of times like these that I will miss York the most. Spending time with friends in the lantern glow of a pub or having one of the world's most magnificent Gothic cathedrals as the lynchpin of my spiritual life are things that won't travel with me back to the States. I leave them here with a heavy heart.
Because I'm predictable, I expect I'll write an inordinately long post awash in nostalgia reflecting on my time here in York, and I expect I will do this in the coming weeks. But for now I will say only this: I will miss it here.