I know this for sure

How much would you pay to belong? $100? $1 million? To belong to a club, a society? Membership has its privileges… And its price.

But how much to simply belong? I’m still tallying the costs of belonging from the last Christmas holiday. The price of saying yes to visitors when I desperately wanted to say no. That subtle and quiet Mephistopheles whispering and reminding me of the time two years ago when my brother didn’t speak to me for six weeks, to my sister for six months.

The memory of my sister’s words when I ask if her husband could use coasters: Well, if we’re that much trouble, then maybe we won’t come. Subtext: Never.

Or that time I was blamed for saying no to a former sister-in-law’s visit. She then wrecked her car. A minor fender bender, but still…

Ugh. Wah wah. Victim, victim.

One thing I know for sure, is that I’d apparently sell my soul to belong—at least to belong in certain groups. (By the way, by now you may be wanting to offer condolences or advice. Don’t. This is a boundary I can be clear about.)

Another thing that’s clear is my work for this weekend as I sacrifice my tendency to open an artery so that someone else can take it easy or feel good. There’s a ritual out there, lurking just above my head, drifting around on the 30 mile an hour gusts, and by gosh I’m going to grab it.