A documenting of the return

Time travel is possible.

Credit: Jennings Hobson Inc.
I reentered a part of my timeline where I spend my hours serving people drinks and food, cracking jokes, trying to keep good cheer, augmenting reality in a small space that I can dance around with aplomb, wit flowing and feeling connected to the place. 

This may have ruined catering for me for a while. 

I worked for almost seven hours on Friday night, bartending and serving tables while Jeff cooked the food. I think he was glad to be off of the floor. I was glad to be making my acquaintance with people who will be among my new regulars, on whatever scale I manage to return to this place in which I feel so at home.

It felt so good to be there, at home , in a place where I feel so comfortable to be myself. Within seconds, I was right in the same place I had left 19 months ago, in early February 2012. I clocked in and went right to work, serving beer and standing behind the bar from which I watched most of my thirties. When I venture out behind the bar, I navigate a realm of people I enjoy, people who have chosen to come into a place I love so much. They are in a place I call home, even though I do not own it. I am welcoming people into a space that is so integral to my understanding of what it means to be a member of a community. 

But, will this be like the old days? Certainly there were flashes of that, as I danced around tables and slung drinks with vigor.

What will it be like?

I don't know. None of the future has happened yet. 

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