THERE AND BACK AGAIN : ROCK CONCERT

Returning to the world after such a long absence feels unreal, somehow, like floating in space---vaster and more unfamiliar---empty and hollow, and then in stages and bits, like the re-entry of astronauts---kind of a great faith in They'll Get You Home, then an exhilarating burst of acceleration UPWARD in the takeoff (many, many thanks to Ground Control at lifeandlinda for her fabulous guidance and support), with a long float of How to Start and then just bracing for the final re-entry, hoping the seat doesn't catch fire in the descent.

All the absence and all the real ABSENCES have been long and difficult, but just the possibility that there was a chance to return always hovered there, right on the lip of the horizon.   Many, many things to tell, little to report, so I went to some of the musings of the Long Nights and Empty Days and found a little piece I wrote long ago, when Sweetpea was very young, and our days spent in such lively, lovely imaginary places and with such friends as are rare and strange.   I'm glad to be back, just for this one moment to have a place to emerge.   This is from my endless WORD shelves,  verbatim as it hit the page way back then.    If there's ever anyone to peek in, after so long a time away, Welcome!

Back in the hothot days of Summer, far back into the TIME BEFORE, when school was out and Sweetpea and I were mostly confined downstairs where it was COOL, we ranged our imaginations far and wide for fun stuff to do.  One day she brought an immense case of LITTLES, collected over several years of occasions and holidays, and we had all sorts of indoor “outings” with the tiny folk.
 
One day whilst waiting for our pedicures to dry (my first EVER, and it consisted of her painting my toenails with a vibrant shade of pink as she sang several songs from FROZEN to keep the temperature down), we just laid out all the wee beings and she devised a great gathering for a Rock Concert.   There was quite the audience of big-eyed fans, with more species of plastic than Noah could have dreamt.
 
The dining table, still laden from a trip to Sam’s, the orchid greenhouse, and a farm stand, as well as several usefuls from the past week which hadn’t been returned to their proper places, was the venue, with all the boxes from the Sam’s trip improvised into auditorium seats and stage.   Small creatures mobbed the gates as the taciturn ticket-lady (the only one of the littles who is simply a blue dress on a dress-form) quietly and calmly ushered everybody in.   It took quite some time, as this event stretched from clearing-after-breakfast to well past lunchtime.  One thing which took quite A While was transporting the audience a bus-ful at a time.  
 
The bus happened to be a much-opened BandAid box, with all the attendant dents and wonky angles, but it was red-and-white and rectangular, so all specs met.    The participants were loaded on, one at a time, with a slip and fall now and again, as they tried to keep their collective balance on top of the slick box as it was driven by hovering hand like a matchbox car, for trip after trip from loading dock to door, perhaps six or eight folks at a time for what seemed hours. 
 
Nobody got restive, nobody complained (well, maybe a buzz or two from the bee and the butterfly when they had to squeeze past the frog family to get to their seats), but all in all, they were quite well behaved for a rock crowd.  A few re-plays of Joe Cocker’s FEELIN’ ALL RIGHT from the Bose, a lot of sashays around the floor for the bus driver/host/deejay and me, and a Good Time was had. And have you ever seen a centipede DANCE??  Whoa!
 
Moire non,