I’m not there. I’m not taking a walk to familiarize myself with the lay of the land along Lois lane and fern lined woodchip covered paths. I’m not listening to the bugs in their Midwestern lexicon, singing the loudest they’ll sing all week. Before all the wyms arrive. I’m not sitting next to the fire pit, rehashing my crazy year and growth and hurdles and successes. I’m not so excited that I can’t sleep. I’m not sore from setting up camp, and helping setup tents with forgotten directions. I’m not in a sea of womyn, feeling all the feelings on the land that I have called home for years. I’m not sitting in the sun, listening to the distant sounds of drums and tractors while eating a fudgesicle. I’m not strutting about wearing a dinosaur tail and spurs. I’m sitting here in Albuquerque, shedding a tear for home, and hoping for progress, acceptance, love and a place for ALL womyn to find empowerment, solidarity and a family that catapults one toward growth. I’m homesick, but will always be a part of this incredible tribe of womyn with strong voices, muscles, opinions, and ethics. The heart that beats within my chest is my home for now, and i feel good about that.