It was fun while it lasted, but it couldn’t last, such is the nature of borrowed things.

Perhaps the time of reckoning is still ahead, or perhaps it is already upon us.

Was it a brief excursion into other possible ways of being, or a journey towards a new becoming? A vacation or a mission?

Somewhere down the road, the traveller looks in the rear-view mirror and does not recognise the path travelled. The sensation is disorienting, for this is what it means to be lost.

It was fun while it lasted, but the time has come to return. Not to the starting point, but to that harbour they were always headed for. Uncertain and but vague at the outset, sometimes forgotten, perhaps it has always lain patiently in wait for the future arrival. “Perhaps?”, the anxious mind calls from the past and uses the inherent uncertainty as the excuse to tweak its gaze back to the open sea.

The annual tradition of celebrating the passing of a year has not been observed. The fast sugar high of borrowed time has worn off, the time for something solid and real is here. Celebrations, congratulations, smiles and abandon make way to sober consideration of what it actually means to do something real and lasting.

Tether re-attached, I blow the accumulated dust off my slowed feet and take the next breath.