At the crack of almost dawn, our group dispersed into the great unknown known (the site that we knew). We downsized to one car, in which we were packed like chickens (but not really because there were only 12 of us); we were closer than we had ever been (literally). When we arrived, we were basically on our own, but we knew what to do -a drastic change from the early settlers of the days of yore (us from yesterday). After hours of nail making, insulation hammering, and ceiling dwelling, we were greeted outside by the glorious smell of Krispy Kreme donuts and coffee, graciously given by our amigos from Habitat for Humanity. But back to work we went, where the even more gratifying smell of used blue jeans awaited. Alas, time went forth quickly. Before we knew it, we ran out of insulation, time, but NEVER running out of fun! Those at the site were grateful, and those who left the site had jeans in their eyebrows. After bonding over hypothetical stories of our futures together (living in a van with jean walls), we treated our tastebuds to the delicious taste of frozen cows' milk (ice cream). Upon our return, we took much needed showers, and settled down to view the game many know and love: football. With stomachs full of brinner (breakfast for dinner) and eyes full of tears (because we lost football), we collected our thoughts for one last late-night reflection period. We talked of many things: the volunteer work, the great people we've met, and the changes each of us have experienced throughout this exciting journey. After a few sentimental moments, we played a not-so-sentimental game of charades. Before we knew it, it was time for bed for most of us -all except an exciting dance party for two. With happy hearts and sleepy minds, we all drifted off into the humble abode that was a cot. It may have been our last day volunteering, but it was not our last day as a family. Ever.