...to bring me back? Well, I really thought it was going to be the elementary school friend who reached out to me on facebook to share a poem I wrote her in sixth grade (don't worry, the critical elements of that tale are saved in drafts). The day I mailed the last tuition payment for daughter...
I thought it might have been the post-it note I left on the desk in the kitchen where it could float into my line of sight as a gentle reminder...
...at the time I was either very amused or rather distressed that I had just caught myself mid-pep talk realizing I was not making sense, as ships don't have wheels. I do not even know which phrase I failed to turn there. I do recall feeling that the shit was indeed far too scattered to collect, but cannot say for sure which show in particular it had escaped from. Did I file my nails instead? Probably not as that task constantly eludes me.
I've been here through ups, downs, randomness, abc shenanigans, capes and mannequins. So what did it take to bring me back to this space after four months? This...
