And it feels so good.

Hooray! Hooray! In just a few days, I will be reunited with the Cult, and I am counting the hours!

That sounds frightening, doesn’t it?  Like I belong to the Manson Family, or sell Amway. But no, it’s not a terrifying mind-control type of cult. We don’t sacrifice chickens or goats (just the occasional toe, and possibly a turducken, and one time a goose…but that might have been sort of an accident) and we’re not looking to leave terra firma to report to the Mother Ship, or depart this mortal coil en masse, or decamp the United States for Ghana or Djibouti.

Aw, hell. We forgot to buy matching dresses.

There are no hallucinogenics involved, no weird sex rituals, and we don’t even have a sweat lodge (yet).  There are no disgusting concoctions to ingest (I swear to God, if any of you are thinking “Oh, really? What about all those damn salads?” right now, I’m gonna smack you), and the initiation rites basically involve two things: (1) being able to hold your liquor and (2) not repeating anything you hear at Headquarters.

There’s one perfect fit, and sugar, this one is it.

Isn’t being reunited with people you love absolutely the best?!  That wonderful feeling of happy anticipation, the moment you catch sight of them and feel your heart soar, the comfort of sinking back into the company of good friends. It almost makes being away worth it. (Almost.)

About ten or fifteen — maybe twenty? I’m old and have lost count — years ago, my mom’s family started holding an annual reunion. It was sporadic at first, but about eight (ten? five?) years ago, it really picked up steam. Held in upstate NY, the same place I’ve gone every summer since I was 9, our family streams in from around the country and across the border to gather for food, fellowship and beer. (We’re half Canadian, eh.)

I’m only half sorry.

I absolutely love getting together with my cousins, and falling right back into the same shenanigans as when we were teenagers, and that’s how it is with the Cult, too — our commitment to fun (and pyrotechnics) never wavers. I like being able to count on a few things in life, and the Cult is rock solid.

It’s also filled with some very funny, very creative people.  One of our members is an absolute whiz with graphics, and basically whips up whatever we want on the computer on demand.  Because of him, we have a very catchy logo, and will probably set up a merchandise tent at some point.  Another member is the Poet Laureate of the Cult (not intentionally — it’s just that everything he says is an absolute gem, and totally worthy of being on a sweatshirt, if not a tombstone) and we’ve just added a new member who happens to be legitimately famous in certain circles, although he has not yet undergone the initiation rites, and thus is still on probation.  We’re also grooming the next generation, to ensure that the Cult exists in perpetuity.

It’s pretty much like this.

Now that  you know about the Cult, you’ll understand that I’m a little excited to leave the books and papers behind, and head home for a week. I know it’s only been a few months, but somehow February — supposedly the shortest month, but nobody really believes that — was endless, and Lent is such a downer.

So I’m going to cut out early and leave you with this lovely video: Reunited.


5 thoughts on “And it feels so good.

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