I think it’s hysterical. Just last night I began announcing my plan to leave Connecticut Wednesday and arrive home to New Hampshire Friday or Saturday, depending on how many stops I made. I added the disclaimer that those were my plans and I’d have to wait and see what plans the Universe had. I found out this afternoon that it has a different plan, the details of which are yet to be revealed.

As soon as I got a call from my dentist’s office the laughter started bubbling up. A crown was being remade because the one I went in for two weeks ago didn’t fit. The end of that week, the temporary crown fell off while I was eating popcorn. I didn’t know that what I bit down on and swallowed was not a kernel but the crown. Because I am isolating on the bus, and when I’m in public, a mask covers my mouth, I decided to hang on another week until the new one was ready, even though I make a hissing sound when I try to pronounce some words. Tomorrow I planned to wrap up the rest of my business, lining up five things so their locations and times fit perfectly around my dental appointment.

See that little stub where a tooth should be? See how “leaving” got crossed off the calendar? See me laughing?

Since arriving in Connecticut just in time for the COVID-19 lockdown, suspended animation became the norm. No pagan celebrations, no witchy stores to visit, no place to do tarot readings, no catching up with so many people, no retail therapy in thrift stores, no massages, no parks, no beaches, no restaurants. That left lots of time of reading, journaling, watching the clouds, meditating and – for the first time besides “Grace and Frankie” – bing watching on Netflix.

It was six months, two weeks and two days ago I began this journey that is about to end in a week. The half-year anniversary was lost among a five-day Beltane celebration followed by the full moon, and two changes of address. The months and miles have seen me change. I have slowed down – thanks to a top speed now of 43mph, and now three planets in retrograde. I met wonderful people, learned things I didn’t want to learn, did things I didn’t think I could, and found help when I needed it. The bus has become the home I thought it would. Not once did I feel lonely. I found joy in living simply, peace in long periods of solitude, and comfort with the darkness wrapped around me like a cape.

I came to realize the primary reason the trip did not go as planned was because I didn’t stick to my plan of chasing 70-degree temperatures. Rather than make that my priority, I left late and plotted a route that didn’t get me far enough south soon enough, and then returned too early because I was not yet willing to give up some gatherings (that turned out not to happen) . That’s why I had more nights in the 30s than I had days in the 70s.

As soon as the universe tells me what’s next, I’ll be sure to share it with you.