First, I thought I was going crazy. It was during a time I was experiencing mania, so some would say it wasn’t far off. I kept hearing chanting, but had no idea where it was coming from. Finally, I looked out the window and saw a stream of people on both sidewalks. Some in the streets, with signs, posters and chanting.

I had no idea what was going on, but I wanted to be among them.

Pounding on my window, I begged for someone to look up. I wanted someone to let me join in. To release me from the bottle I was trapped in. I opened the window, but my sounds were swallowed by their voices. Eventually my husband woke up. Words were exchanged. I only know that I conveyed I had to go out there. “Two minutes,” I said. That was all the time I needed, I said. He agreed. I took what I needed (my “May We Connect” water bottle and my blue Interfaith Prayer book) and left.

I left on the most epic adventure. People were everywhere. Organized and flowing. I held up my items and cheered them on. I apologized to them for forsaking them, for not being there for them more obviously. I was distraught, and various people came up to ask if I needed help. I cried more for their kindness. I saw people I met before: one whom I complimented her gorgeous silver hair in the parking lot of a coffee shop, one caring co-worker I worked with previously. I was a free fairy among the sea of progress. Gradually, I found my flow. More and more I embraced myself, thanks to the kids who stopped and offered me a hug, and the adults who protected them and myself.

Then I found the family. The little boy wore an Ash hoodie, the father looked like he didn’t know what was going on, and the mother was an ever present guardian. I was in full Fae mode. I told the mom I wanted to try something or something to that effect. I stepped forward, she casually stepped a bit more in front of her son, triumphant, I stepped back. She knew exactly what to do and I truly meant no harm. I only wanted to play and display the game.

What game?

Exactly.

We talked, and they listened. I do not remember the exact details. I only remember that I was able to get closer to the boy, his mother introduced him as Mason. She explained that he was on the Autistic Spectrum, which reminded me of why he seemed so familiar. His name has a special space in my heart for reasons I will not say. It made me introduce myself as Tink. In essence it’s true. I want to fix things. Things as in social structures and peoples problems. Regardless, it’s the same energy though I would later go on to acknowledge my true name.

Of course, it wasn’t for another day or so that it came to me. First thing I have to do was get back upstairs.

I yelled up to the 3rd floor window, “OKAAY I’M READY TO COME UP NOOOWW!” it took a few tries, but eventually my husband answered. The significance of our building number was significant to me at this point. The people had long since passed. It was April 5th, what I came to realize was part of the Hands Off protest. There were so many people on the same side, the same common ground.

…My husband did not care about that. He was disappointed. i told him 2 minutes, but was gone 30. Not only that, I left without my phone and my keys. I felt like a kid being scolded with more than words. We talked, came up with a plan for next time. It was something else for sure. I will never forget how free I felt to fly, and cheer people on from the sidelines. Which is something that happened on the 3rd candidate for the greatest day. Will share about that another time.