December 25th, 2021. Sacramento.

Helen switches on the turn signal and pulls into a right turn. There's been a lot of things happening since she's got here and there's still some processing to be done, and that stuff doesn't even include other things she still has to deal with. Normally, these things wouldn't be too unwelcome, but right now, they're a nuisance she's trying to make as small as possible as she drives around the same set of blocks for the fourth time.

She's nervous.

She's done the homework and has taken special care to make sure she's got everything prepared and laid out in order. Still, there's the nagging feeling that comes around to visit this time each year. Maybe she has forgotten something despite checking ? Maybe the prep and homework just isn't good enough ?

But maybe... It's her who isn't good enough anymore ?

It's the one thing she'd ever openly admit, but it's also the one thing she's afraid of the most. It's not that she's fallen behind on things, even if she's pretty set in her ways. Despite everything she knows about her condition and the way she normally likes to go about it, Helen's acutely aware of the slippery slope she's on and the foul compromises and cutting corners she feels she's been forced into over the years. She's not proud of those and the way thinking about it all makes her feel. She does her best with the tools she has, that has to count for something. Still, every year, when the time comes, the doubts come nagging, regular as clockwork as she looks back on the bygone 365 nights and the good and bad that came from them as well as the long-term effects of said good and bad. And still, every year, she calms herself with the knowledge that the fact she knows of all the shortcuts and is still able to despise them means she still feels strongly enough about things and they still mean more to her than just simple convenience. It is a shaky calm, with quite some unease in it, but unlike the rest of the year, she knows this particular time, it is as good as it gets.

At about the last third of the fifth round, she's pushed the discussion far enough away that she feels she can concentrate on the present and, more importantly, the close foreseeable future. Thus, instead of going for another tour around the area, she looks for a parking spot and parks the car. She's still nervous (or again ?) as she puts on the headscarf and grabs the little book from the seat next to her before getting out.

She allows herself some time to take in the scene as she walks up to the building of the Holy Ascension Church. Now that she's close to the building, the earlier apprehensions weakly flare up again. There's not much time in the year she is able to attend Divine Liturgy and it is good that Nativity is one of them, yet does the importance of the occasion not also highlight her making a small problem way bigger than it is ? Or is it the other way around ?

Helen feels the familiar inner pull towards the entrance, as if someone or something inside beckons her closer. She knows her inner predator will act up a little, as if it wants to remind her she's not being able to forget she's pretending to be something she's not. She also knows that she'll spend some time beating herself up over the question whether she has been going because it was the right thing to do or just because it allows her to feel normal and somewhat alive again for some time, just one of the crowd, united in common goal and purpose. Or perhaps a little of both ? And she knows that after those few nights, the sense of loneliness and separation will bite all the more painful, just to drive the point home all the way again. Yet as she enters and makes the first sign of the cross, that line of thought stops to matter for the time being.

She feels a connection she's sorely missed.
She feels welcome.
She feels accepted.

For a few precious hours of the year, she feels like she belongs.