Sic transit gloria mundi

If I am reading the truffle calendar right, Robin must be in transit. I find myself thinking of her and worrying for her, thinking how it must be, but somehow I can't pick up the phone. It's as if even if I did, even if I talked to her, it wouldn't help. She's in a place now where I can't get to her. She's in a special world of her own. She's in transit.
I have been thinking back to my own experience, to the crazy days before, during and after the actual move, and it really is like nothing so much as dying and being reborn. Not to sound melodramatic, but there it is. Ordinary concerns fall away and life is reduced to these strange but basic questions. Having no place to call home, even temporarily, is a very odd feeling. It is not for nothing that one of the basic myths of all cultures is about a journey. A journey that changes you forever, that calls on everything you have.
So I will just wish her the best, smooth sailing, happy trails, and all the rest of it. May the roads rise with her, and so on. And I hope to hear from her soon, from the Mile High City.