This weekend, handfulls of tears spent quietly from my position on the lone yellow towel spread evenly in the middle of a field dotted with hippy mamas and their hippy babies and hula hoops and babe baby-daddies went unnoticed underneath the incredibly giant brim of my straw hat. A father-daughter gospel band was playing on stage at the edge of the field where it dipped conveniently and I sat listening, and weeping. I was homeless and alone and sad with said disposition and my lack of joy. I found such joy over summer, over the course of two contracts completed, over the journeys there and back, there and then back home again and all joy was lost in translation/transition. (Joy was never lost, it was merely misplaced I think).
The father-daughter team kept singing and eventually I stopped crying and just sat and enjoyed it quietly. As the evening progressed, I felt more myself as the dark crept in and Sula and I strung stars in the most beautiful tree in the field. The Celestial Tree. We spread a blanket and tossed pillows, set out food and wine, hung a lamp from the branches and waited for the people. The people came. We had people from the festival come from far and wide. I am not sure if it was the twinkling stars or Rich and Sam's bass and tenor voices stringing lines of old songs together or the general lure of Melissa Trainor hula hooping (my god what a beauty), but the people came. Sula read their cards and I sat and poured wine and sliced cheese (I will always be the wine and cheese lady at parties I suppose, never the tarot card lady; but I am okay with this) for the masses. When it became quiet and the singing died down, Sula handed me the cards and I shuffled and fanned them out and drew a single card: Sharing. Sharing? What? I scoffed and she said "wait" with her eyes and then gave me another look that said "you are about to be told by the Universe" and I was. I was told by the Universe.
Five days passed since I was told underneath the Celestial Tree and then I received a letter from Sula presenting me with an opportunity that will surely mark my twenty third year. A chance. A decision. A whim. A home. Sula presented me with the opportunity to have a home. An idea so unattainable and unfamiliar that I hardly knew what to say or do other than to cry. I think I have found a home. It is beautiful and warm and the windows are majestic and the ceilings are forever high and I am five minutes from the studio and the best part is that there is enough room to ride my bike around in a loopy figure eight. I have my winter's work cut out for me and that work is exactly what the card read: sharing.
Home at last.