I did not write over the weekend. Today, I wrote 3,187 words bringing my total to 15,128. Here’s an excerpt.
“No one was home. Sure, he and Susan hadn’t texted much lately, but to not let him know if she was going to be home? That was unusual. Sure, he didn’t usually get home until after 8 pm, and it was only 6:45 pm. But, to not tell him at all. Suddenly, he wondered, what did they do all day? Where was his family?”
As I sit on the plane, surrounded by the hum of the engine and the chill of the window, I can’t help but notice the person in front of me repeatedly adjusting their seat, each movement a grating assault on my laptop screen. The journey back to Portland, high above the clouds, prompts reflections on the comforts of home and the complexities of travel.
The Wheel of the Year is a cyclical and seasonal calendar. It marks the changing of seasons and incorporates festivals, or Sabbats, celebrating various aspects of nature, life, and spirituality.
Ranting on social media without alignment with organizing people is nothing more than performative and will never yield the change you want.
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