I thought I’d spend my 50th birthday in Scotland but plans changed unexpectedly and I got home on Monday instead. I’m still fighting jet lag—there’s something about flying westward that really messes with my body clock. Glasgow is six hours ahead of Chicago, so it wasn’t easy to do three virtual school visits while I was over there. The last one wrapped up at 1am on Friday and I struggled to get up later that morning to catch the train to Aberdeen. Luckily the station was just a few steps from my hotel and I was able to get a direct train. A woman with a support dog sat next to me for part of the trip and her dog slept on my feet. A sweet baby guzzled two bottles of milk across the aisle…it was very civilized, very soothing. The fields we passed were full of sheep and cows and goats and then suddenly the North Sea appeared on the other side of the tracks. I don’t feel like I have a lot to say about my trip (check my Instagram account for photos and details) but my head is still there and that’s made it hard to adjust to life here in the US. There are babies and dogs here in Chicago, and the leaves are much prettier here—probably because we don’t get rain every single day. The grass literally is greener over there but the main difference is watching the news every night and not seeing a report of one single shooting. I came home to yet another mass shooting, this time at a performing arts school in St. Louis. A seven-year-old was shot and killed here in the city while washing his hands at home and he’d just lost his father a few days earlier. The weekend is about to begin, which means by Monday, there will be reports of more shootings. This morning NPR did a report on some type of “switch” that allows pistols to be turned into machine guns. WTF?! This is our normal. I want a new normal.

I didn’t do anything special for my birthday on Wednesday but yesterday I redeemed my gift certificate for a ninety-minute solar return tarot reading and ancestral ritual session with Owen at Nonna Terra. He had several different decks but as soon as I saw the crow, I picked The Gentle Tarot, which is Indigenous-designed. This was only my second reading and I was encouraged not only to present my concerns and questions but to invite my ancestors or guides from various regions of the world. What did I feel coming up for me? Direction. I feel like I keep finding (or placing) myself at crossroads and don’t really worry that I’ll make a wrong choice but don’t know how to prioritize the need I see around me. In Scotland I was thinking a lot about Nevis and the connections between enslavers from Glasgow and plantations in the Caribbean. Then on a walking tour I found out about a particular family, the Stirling Maxwells, who built a stately home and filled it with priceless art using wealth derived from the enslavement of Africans in St. Kitts-Nevis. I went to the Pollok House website and discovered I had missed the deadline for a storytelling residency! I spent Tuesday afternoon updating my CV and sent it off anyway…I don’t really need a paid residency and it’s likely meant for Scottish writers, but it’s still my dream job: spend time in the house, mine the archives, and then create a suite of 4-6 stories, 2 of which would be published for young readers. I tracked down the tour guide who first told me about a runaway enslaved boy named Frederick last August. Turns out the child had nothing to do with the Findlays or the sale of tobacco…so do I rewrite my story? Or leave it as is and extend my author’s note to explain the discrepancy? I met with the scholar who proved that Frederick had been trafficked from the Caribbean by James Watt, famed Scottish inventor. I went to the People’s Palace to see the engraved silver slave collar that once circled the neck of an enslaved boy. I also saw a reproduction of the portrait of a wealthy Glaswegian family that owned an enslaved boy but had him painted out of the picture when it was no longer fashionable to flaunt your exploitation of a child. There are so many stories…the Viking exhibit in Aberdeen was incredible, even though the most interesting parts of the hoard couldn’t be displayed due to their delicate condition. There was a lidded pot filled with objects that seemed to have been assembled over a hundred years, which means it was likely an heirloom passed from one generation to another before it was buried in Scotland. The pot was wrapped in textiles that trace back to the Silk Road in Central Asia! It would be so easy to connect that pot to my Scandinavian girl from Iran/Iraq and her Arabic ring…I met with my agent yesterday and she ran through the long list of finished projects we haven’t yet sold and unfinished projects she’d like to send out to editors. But right now I’m thinking about Vikings and the triangular trade and children trafficked by Scottish inventors. I could stay put and finish those other projects, all of which are set here in the US. Or I could go back to Scotland (I’ve blocked off February and March…) or I could go back to Nevis for the first time in a decade and do my own research, write my own suite of stories for adults and kids. What’s a girl to do? The tarot session was really affirming. Owen reads the cards with a lot of compassion and he made no predictions but did sense that I was moving toward liberation—that’s what the Death card signifies. Transformation, claiming more space, realizing we can free ourselves from oppressive systems. I took lots of notes and just kept nodding because everything that came up rang true. Owen called it “cheerleading” because the cards confirmed what I already know about myself, the patterns in my life, the challenges, and the solutions. Did I end the session knowing which path I’m meant to follow? Not necessarily. But I do feel like I’m moving forward, growing, setting boundaries, and learning how best to use my gifts. After some very full days in Scotland, I took it easy on my birthday but did enjoy some of the presents I gave myself—like a new teacup and this shiny Labradorite necklace I got at the art gallery in Aberdeen. I’m breaking in my new glasses—first pair in forever that isn’t purple!—and we got the go-ahead from the condo board so renovations begin on Monday. Can I handle the chaos? Of course, I can. I’ll have to! Just the nudge I need to get out of the house and visit all the museums in Chicago…