Tribe

My hair still smells like campfire.

I will carry the smell with me on a plane across the country as a reminder that I am not alone out there in the concrete jungle--I have a tribe, a big amorphous blob of an affinity group whose members don't always show up to events, but who always belong to the tribe. Last night the tribe gathered in the woods around the fire to celebrate Geminis (and more specifically, Jason, the Burly Fighter and, I would suggest, the tribe's bard. Or one of 'em...we seem to have a lot of them. So maybe, Head Bard.) And a lot of tribemembers were there that I hadn't seen in awhile. I knew (and liked, or in some cases, loved) pretty much everyone at this party. And oh, I wish I had the time to really nail that feeling down on paper, how good it felt circulating from clump to clump amongst my dear and familiar (in the sense of familial) friends, loose, happy, and open to the night and its possibilities. In this group of people I can really be myself, no games, no fear, no barriers. We all can. That's the beauty of hanging out with the same people for a decade or so.

Ah, I really do want to explore this more but the morning is here and the plane is calling and I gotta go. But before I do, 3 cheers for the tribe:

Hip hip, huzzah!
Hip hip, huzzah!
Hip hip, huzzah!