There was a big tree on the playground, and we would play tag around it. The tree was home. You couldn’t be tagged “You’re It!” if any part of your body was touching any part of the tree. If you didn’t venture far enough or often enough away from the tree, you were accused of being a home sticker.

I’ve always been a homebody. I like all the quiet, nurturing, and domestic things. Hearing the pop of the lids after canning a line of jars with my tomato marmalade makes me happy. I like being a homebody.

But I think I’ve also been a home sticker. I insulated myself within what I thought was an emotionally and financially secure life. When that illusion blew up, I was forced to go it, maybe not alone, but as a single person.

Now, if I’m going to survive, I need to put myself out there. Away from the tree.

I worry. What if this? What if that?

What is the worst that can happen?

The worst that can happen is that I would be tagged “It.”

I would be “It.”