I feel the change will soon be coming, as my tree groans and stretches in the Big Top when it awaits the move. It knows before I do, more a part of the circus now than a part of me. At times like these I always miss being able to be inside it most. As nice as it is to be with you all, I miss sleeping beneath the bark.
The shows have had a gap since Patric's passing, and I feel like the circus misses its gunslinger. I wonder if when we reach our new destination it will find itself someone to fill the space. The circus, I find, always gets what it needs.
I hope we can leave these dark memories behind, and find ourselves somewhere warm and loving.