They don't lie when they say The Ticker is like a family—a very dysfunctional one, but all the more endearing for it. I was, and still am, part of that family, and I couldn't imagine leaving it. I actually cried when I left for D.C. to become The Ticker's Washington correspondent and called in on the first production night, homesick. I was doing things I could only dream of before, but more than anything I wanted to be back in that office struggling with my features section.

Being Washington correspondent was my one link to home, and through this position The Ticker remained a constant fixture in my life when everything changed and a little stability was more than appreciated. After moving to D.C., I felt as if I lived two lives, connected only by The Ticker—life back home and a surreal one as a Capitol Hill correspondent, which got even more surreal when someone close to me was diagnosed with cancer and died within a few weeks.

Throughout those few weeks, whenever I returned, I stopped by the office, not so much for the comfort and support that was in constant supply, as for the sanity found in helping or just seeing the chaotic process of producing the paper and knowing that in the end everything will find its rightful place. After the funeral, I wandered into The Ticker office, sat down, and cried. Finally everything seemed real, and while nothing will ever be the same, it felt good to be home.