VII

      Iseult was shaken by the invitation at first. It was as though it was not really meant for her but for a past self, who grew quite jumpy at the idea of emerging out of her hiding place.
      Nevertheless, she would go, for this had needed to be done. Someone had needed to call them all back together. She had willed it to happen many times. It was not that she was afraid of how they would judge her, now that the artist in her had shied away. She just hoped that they would be able to ignite her again and give her back her reason to be.
      Iseult packed very carefully, everything with meaning. She took flower covered blouses because they would celebrate the idea of a spring holiday. She took a beach hat with a ribbon because she would give herself to the charm of the place. She took long-johns and waterproofs to keep her safe and allow her to throw herself into the occasion, come what weather the heavens willed.
      As she stood back to calculate the completeness of her packing, Iseult let out a short, surprised laugh for she felt, looking at the contents of her suitcase, that she was collecting herself, quite literally. Looking into the suitcase she saw herself: covered in flowers, wearing little cotton shorts and running around laughing with unbrushed hair.