Anniversary, Thinking

What has become of me.

Chocolate pudding is the answer. In my former life it wouldn’t be. But it is today.

Here is what I am thinking about:

How are you are the most important three words I can say to you as we head into the one year anniversary of this pandemic. Don’t think this is obvious — if I ask this, right at the start, bang-out-of-the-gate, I am paying attention to you on the other end. I have been meeting this question with silence, the good kind of silence, the solidarity let’s-just-float-this-in-the-air kind of silence. We know. Been said. Now, what are you reading?

Digestive biscuits are comfort.

I have submitted a number of personal essays to thirty publications since December. I am still a long way off from the normal numbers — I should make that one hundred submissions to publications by the end of the year. For perhaps one acceptance. Know that about people who write.

I have inherited a dog and this has saved me. From her sweet good mornings to the long walks she takes me on. When I stroke her ears I feel my blood pressure fall and I am flooded with gratitude. She leaves soon. I will have to figure that out.

We heal. Hips heal. Bellies heal. Hearts heal. Fingers-stuck-in-the-running-blender heal. I am frankly so flipping tired of being on the healing journey. But I know the gig: do what I can. Make what I know. Feel what I feel. And I know people are key to healing. So I am missing wholeness. Hugs ahead.

And: I am starting to think about the after. Even though I am on the last tier of the vaccination schedule and may miss the summer until I am twice-shot I am starting to lie awake and think, what will I care about? What do I NOT want to lose from this year? I have gained a new sense of time — perhaps from peeling away the ‘shoulds’ or the ‘have to’ or the schedules. Suddenly at 4:45AM I love that I am awake with fresh tea and a book — why not, all I have is time ahead. Somehow, while we are all still working like crazy and meeting deadlines and answering texts don’t you feel that our days have been peeled, the shell parts pulled off, the soft middles getting some air. What has become of me that I taste and smell and relish the small stuff and it is enough?

I do not live in yoga pants. Period. I dress in what I love. I wear bigger earrings as the week progresses. There will be bling tomorrow. There’s that.

To be safe I have to pick. Not who or what I love the most. Just what I need to take care of myself. Now that is not a novel idea, before or after. Remember that.

And lastly, pudding. I ate the remains of a glass ramekin full of home-made chocolate pudding with a cream floater for my snack this morning. It was pure comfort. Today that is the answer. I am ok with that.

February 18, 2021: I sat in an isolated corner of Tartine Bakery yesterday and marveled at the still life of my table top. A trashy novel, a sugary biscuit, a shot of adrenaline, and the bent mask.


4 thoughts on “What has become of me.

  1. Nan says:

    First. What is the novel!!!
    I worry I have lost some social skills.
    I wonder if we will become selfish about time. Time to do what we want and time to do absolutely nothing.
    As far as the pooch. Maybe it is time to look around for a special little one. Other wise you are actually talking to yourself
    Miss your blog


    • This one takes the cake — Beach Read. Very sexy. Very young. Very predictable. Perfect for the endless snowstorm and intermittent naps. Just also finished Outlaw which is a gender bend on The Kidd wild west legend. I really liked it.


  2. Nice one ADG! Miss our coffee breaks. 100 submissions? I haven’t thought of setting a goal like that. You’re inspirational. I submitted one to Brevity yesterday but need to do more as much as I hate doing it.


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