93. The Edge of Reality

Tomorrow we go back to Davis, y'all. Nigh unto a year of sometimes-focused, sometimes-aimless, occasionally-intense, and too-often-slothful journeying and abroadening is about to end. Tomorrow we move back in to our old apartment, make plans to retrieve our sweet kitty, and slide back into a semblance of our old lives. But I have some trepidation; I'm not yet sure what I'll be doing to bring home the baconnaise, and as we've gotten closer to the date that uncertainty has weighed more and more heavily upon me.

I fear the Undiscovered Country.

Anticipation: worse than actuality?

Does waiting for “it” hurt more than arrival?

Imagination looms more than reality

which just exists, leaves up to you survival.

Of course, when hamm'ring nails into your hand

there's no real pain 'til iron pierces flesh.

Imagined, though, the suff'ring's much more grand

and just gets worse 'til thought and action mesh.

Each day has brought me closer to the Change

and now I stand upon its cusp, dismayed.

Will going back to Real Life be too strange?

Uncertainty is what makes me afraid.

I know the nail will hurt less than I thought,

but 'til it lands, the wait makes me distraught.