Hi my friend,
Well, here I sit – as overwhelmed and stymied, nudgy and confused as are we all. I should be maximizing this time – pouring over the classics that I have sworn to read again (not to mention the number of books I have downloaded to my Kindle), writing you far more frequently than I have been, organizing the pantry…
…instead I’m looking at puppies on Instagram.
Hardly a coping mechanism.
I’m trying to FaceTime with my kids and granddaughters, fretting that the proximity matters little. I’m cooking for the family of a neighbor who is in the hospital right now, baking…walking out on the deck and feeling grateful that I’ve got a deck to walk out on. Honestly, what I’m doing is seeking the mundane, searching for the every day that was every day before our lexicon moved from the politics of the day to the health of the world. I know there will be an after. There will be an after.
Our supermarkets opens early for the over-60 crowd, and I neglect to acknowledge that I am in that cohort, so I keep missing this window of senior opportunity. My kids are worried because I’m one of those over-60, who’s also immuno-compromised and enthusiastically in denial about both. “I don’t believe in aging. I believe in forever altering one’s aspect to the sun” – Virginia Woolf
I bought a half roller so I can practice my balance (Christy, I miss you), I’m going to dance to whatever Alexa selects, I’m going to keep checking on those I love so I can remain connected to the crux of my heart. And I’m going to send up prayers and hope and energy and love to the world. It may not be much, but it’ll make me feel a bit more productive than I do when looking at puppy pictures. And yes, I’ll keep looking at those too – for after. Take good care my friend.
Waiting for the Karma Truck 