One Tiny Thing at a Time
Gosh.
This last week has been such a roller coaster… within a whirlwind… that kicked up a whole shitstorm of emotions.
By every objective measure, our last day at the old space was just a really beautiful day. Mitch pulled together a community cookie bake-off of massive proportions, spurred on by a bitter(sweet) rivalry with Lily. Many of you planted yourselves in the space from open to close, regardless of whether you had a game. It was palpable from my spot behind the bar how empty Waystone would feel if it didn’t have all these people in it, making it sacred.
It was, admittedly, a little hard doing all the normal things on that day: making drinks, setting up tables, explaining to folks wandering in off the street what exactly was going on in this peculiar place with so many happy-looking people.
Folks kept asking me how I was feeling, and at the end of the day my head and my heart were just buzzing. I didn’t know how to describe what I felt. My body is pretty good at sweeping feelings aside and trying to focus on the next step, which is little upsetting because I want to feel things with everyone instead of moving robotically from one task to another.
The next day we showed up with cookies still everywhere, buckets of paint water still on the hobby tables, ice machine buzzing, all our silly characters watching grimly from the Wall of Heroes, and our little plants reaching imperceptibly towards the scanty bits of winter sunlight. It felt like anyone could be getting ready to walk in and pick up an order, or ask me to get the coffee pot brewing; instead, we had to start tearing it all apart.
Kill Teamers squeezed in some final games (and a group photo) on our last day.
Every couple days, a force outside our control jabs another needle in to siphon what little is left from our energy or our budget. (It hasn’t helped that Stefan and I also both had water leaks in our apartments this week.) But every time we finish a task, and we’re wrapping up at the end of the day, Stefan will remind me that we’re “one step closer”, and it really helps to think about it that way.
I’ll be sitting in the new space, slowly sorting through things, re-assembling the wire shelves I put together when we first opened—twisting the legs together, snapping the little rungs on, screwing on the little feet, and I can feel that this amazing space we’re moving into really is going to come together one tiny thing at a time. Before we know it, it’s gonna be bustling again.
A friend also shared this very grounding Ursula K. LeGuin quote recently:
“What goes too long unchanged destroys itself. The forest is forever because it dies and dies and so lives.”
God, I miss that feeling of staring around the room and seeing everyone locked into their alternate worlds together.
//
It feels weird to announce under these circumstances, but we’re launching our yearly membership promotion today. It’s an opportunity to help us dream big about the coming year by paying for the whole year of membership up-front. As a thanks, you get one month free.
If you’re on the fence about taking advantage of this offer while we’re closed, we included an option for you to hold off on starting your year membership (or letting your old one renew) until we re-open.
You all are really holding us on your shoulders in this challenging time. Thank you.
-Dustin
