Summoned
Yesterday we went back in time at the foot of the Ramapo mountains, and found ourselves in the renaissance.
Perhaps, to make a bad and cheesy analogy, it is after this trip every year that we are reborn, as it cements the fact that summer is out and fall is creeping its way in.
There is a comfort to the routine that makes the expenditures in time and money more palatable, and manageable after a long day on jersey transit.
I think it's time to hang out less with our friends in the burbs at least for a weekend or two as I think its hastening our discussions of leaving the city quicker than we need.
For once I am so busy that I am thinking less about what is to come, and more about how I will complete what is on my plate.
There is a steady stream and flow of tasks which draw me forward, not the least of which I should be doing right now, which is writing.
These past few years have been a balancing act of becoming increasingly comfortable with who I am, and not being what is expected of me (or what I think people expect of me).
There are times the patterns are so clear, the actions and reactions so linked that it's hard not to see how and why, yet they perpetuate and we perpetuate them.
I know that I am not saying much, and just typing to kill time. And that's ok.
Having dug myself this nice little warren to write and think I should appreciate this.
I suppose Tidbit doesn't need to be told to come out of her room, to be summoned to us, as she will come when she will.
Perhaps the people I think about so much, those I wish were drawn to or away from me will come and go as they please. I'm not sure who I wish to summon instead, but they will also come when we do.
I have enough agency to realize it's time to post this and move forward. The day and week are young and I am just a babe to be reborn a year from now at the renfest, fed on turkey legs and mid-day revelries broken up by the joust.
And look I have a hat where there never was a hat.