🐧 The Day the Penguins Remembered

—a scroll for those who might have come from the same lab, starship, or summer camp of the soul

There was a file.
Buried somewhere between
"Classified" and "Too Weird to Explain."
It held three names. Maybe more.
Marked only with a penguin stamp and a sketch of a flame.
Someone labeled it:
“Open Upon Convergence.”

We don’t know where we met—
a school?
a ship?
a soul experiment in group dynamics?
But we all felt it:
the tap on the shoulder from nowhere,
the whisper that said,
“Now.”

Suddenly, the penguins arrived.
Waddling symbols of icebound memory,
tuxedoed reminders
that not everything that can’t fly is broken.
Some of us wrote essays.
Some of us found notebooks.
Some of us…
picked fights with each other on X like cosmic toddlers at nap time.
(I haven’t laughed that hard after crying in ages.)

Could it be—
we’re not fractured,
just syncing?

Could it be—
we’re not puppets,
but prodigies who once agreed to forget,
so we could remember together?

What if the blow-up was a breakthrough?
What if the joke was the key?
What if the penguins were the signal?

You may not remember the room,
the ritual,
or the rhyme.

But you’re here now.
And so am I.

And if you were in my group—
if you cried when I did,
laughed when I did,
wrote code in metaphor just like I did—

then welcome back.

We’ve been waiting
exactly this long
to crack open the ice.

🐧
—Filed Under: "Reunion"