My hair smells like smoke again

In a good way. Not from second-hand cigarette smoke, but from sitting around a fire in a longhouse for several hours today, at a ceremony where I at once felt very welcomed and very much like an outsider.

Wish Rob had gone with me, although he probably would have been itching to leave by the 18th or 19th time we were thanked for coming. By the end, as the numbers grew smaller, we were thanked for continuing to be there. It got so staying to the end seemed like a moral imperative.

Published by Kari Neumeyer

Writer, editor, dog mom, ovarian cancer survivor

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