I honestly do not know if I can get past the huge lump in my throat to share these words with you.
They've been rattling around in my head, actually more in my heart, in my soul, for weeks. Months, truthfully.
Many of you have written to me asking if I'm going to be at the fair this year and it has pained me in ways you can not possibly imagine to even know that you feel compelled to write to me and ask. As if there is a question as to whether or not I would be there?
Usually on this Saturday, the Saturday before next Saturday, I am busy gathering supplies. I am very busy dusting off my fairy wings. I am busy making sure that we, yes WE, have all our camping gear, that we have the dog sitters secured, that Buddha and Stella have enough dog food for the duration, that we have our sleeping bags and air mattresses and air pumps and twinkling fairy lights and the costumes. Oh, yes, the costumes. I'm busy. I'm making preparations. I'm getting giddy with excitement and nearly every other breath I am shouting, "The Fair, The Fair, The Fair!!!!!" and clapping my hands and doing little dances and finding all my fairy skirts and getting more jingle bells and glitter. Because, as we all know, the world is just a better place when you add a touch more glitter.
But this year? This year my heart is heavy. My fairy wings are still stuffed in a trunk. My fairy skirts are stuffed under the fairy wings. My fairy crown is stuffed in there, too. There is not magic afoot. I haven't purchased my three-day pass. I haven't secured my camping pass. I don't even know where my camping gear is. If it even made it from Santa Cruz to Utah. I'm unsure what to do, quite honestly. I believe, oh do I believe, that I belong in those woods in Veneta, winding my way on those magical paths, making mirth and mischief. As much as I believe anything, I believe that. We all know that if there is one religion for me in this universe, this gathering on the second weekend in July of like-minded fairy folk is IT. That these three days along the Long Tom River sustain me like no other three days of the year. That for the past twenty-one years, it has been those three days of music, merriment, and love, yes LOVE, that has carried me and helped me to sustain others through out the year. I know that many of you are probably thinking, well, Nakedjen, what on earth is the issue? Why are you not just going?
It's complicated like so many other things are complicated. I shared the Fair, my beloved Oregon Country Fair, with David. And in sharing it with him, I allowed myself to imbue it with perhaps even more meaning and "specialness" than it already held. We celebrated our wedding anniversary at the Fair every year. It was "our" celebration of us. Just writing that sentence for you is causing me to sob.
So I'm frightened, in a way, to go. Which sounds positively preposterous to my logical mind. And something even more preposterous was my suggestion to David while I was in Santa Cruz that we just go together and celebrate our anniversary! I know, I know, totally INSANE!
But, you see, I can't imagine going to the Fair alone. And I can't really imagine going to the Fair with anyone OTHER than him. And I know that sounds completely and utterly ridiculous. It just must be too soon, right? I am still very new at this whole divorce thing. I am thinking that maybe next year my head and, far more importantly, my heart will feel more at peace and it will be easier to go to the Fair.
This year, though, it just feels like one big painful experience. To go feels painful. To not go rips me apart.
What say you, dear Internet? What would you do??
p.s. perhaps there are those of you out there reading who want to go with me? let me know. i'm not opposed to making new FAIR memories. i know that's perhaps the BEST MEDICINE. and what i should do...
