Time is a flat circle

We’re at the KOA. It feels strangely like we never left.

Being here last year was our attempt at normalcy. Our kids had been in school for 10 days the whole school year before, but we were promised a return to the classroom in the fall. The last of us was finally eligible for vaccination. The future felt full of possibility, the possibility of normalcy. Of things returning to what they had been.

Or maybe I just want to remember that it felt like that last year. Maybe it didn’t feel like that at all. Time is hard to hold on to. The years melt together. The threads holding together the narrative are brittle and break easily.

The ways I felt and when I felt them exist in liminal spaces that I can’t really grasp from here.

Time is a flat circle*. I don’t really know what that means but I’ve thought of it a lot these past years, because for me it means that time doesn’t always makes sense in the ways I want it to. And that’s okay.

Right now I’m in a place that seems to exist, for me, in both this year and the last one. And it’s a weird place to be, but not necessarily a bad one.

Also floaties.