SquarePeg Books

There’s a lot out there regarding liminal spaces. That weird state of in-between that is real but feels like it might not be. Playgrounds at night. The interior of houses under construction. Ghost towns. That 15-30 minutes right before the sun rises above the horizon. Those hugely long tunnels guiding traffic under mountains and water channels.

Is it possible to be a liminal being?

Someone who is this weird combination of everyone knows, but no one really knows? Not like mushrooms, but like that person who, with a single, brief conversation of less than 10 minutes, is capable of inspiring another to reach and work for their dreams, but can’t seem to do it for themselves?

Is it possible to be existing in a liminal time/space position, orbiting around everyone else, hovering around their clock, their schedule, their opportunities?

One of my high school aged children has been accepted into a choir intensive out of state. It’s about a 10-12 hour drive away, so we’re planning that I’ll go out with the kid, they attend the intensive at the college–room and board and all that–while I cool my heels at a hotel, possibly taking in some local sights.

The trick here is that while there are a few museums in that town, it’s a small college town. In a not-so-popular vacation state.

Is it bad that I’m looking forward to several days, away from family, friends, dogs, and the house, holed up in a hotel room in the middle of BFE nowhere? Is it wrong to hope that it will push me out of that in-between existential ennui that I’ve been living in for the gods only know for how long?