This has been a tough week. Covid fatigue is one thing. Anxiety about the elections another...those feelings I’ve been dealing with fine, I thought. After flipping back and forth between the town halls and such different visions of what represents America and who we are, and who we want to be, left me reeling. I don’t watch the news so am pretty insular to such a stark difference. It left me numb And unmotivated to do much... my screen time is up as I surf YouTube for something, anything to lift my spirits ... Well not just anything as cute puppy and adorable kittens feel too immature and wasted. I need knowledge, I need to learn something, I need to feel that somehow in the midst of all the divisiveness in the country knowledge is power and I can take back mine some how. So tiptoeing past TikTok, no politics, and no conspiracy theories is not necessarily an easy journey. A crystal in my window gave me this prism on the wall. The colors danced and shimmered and got lighter and brighter from moment to moment. It gave me hope that the dark cloud i felt settling over me might be held at bay somehow. If the smallest bit of light can change a dull flat empty white space to a reminder of joy, and color however brief the encounter, then maybe there can be some sort of symbiotic energy transfer to my soul. Then i realized I have a choice each day to decide if I want to carry forth the lasting shimmer of possibility, or the blank emptiness of the white void. That choice is mine to make, and is the start of taking back my power.
October 27, 2020
Only a few Christmas holidays have passed over the many years without our daughter in it. She's 28 and working in Hawaii - too far to come home, quarantine, spend the holiday, and return to her own house and work life. Her father and I have been so cautious about distancing that we did not feel comfortable with her coming either. So, I made a stocking, filled it, packed boxes with gifts and spent time on the phone, face time and zoom with her daily. That has become usual for us during this time, because she is living solo in an apartment and in a new community. I've been missing her a lot - but not nearly as much as when she left home for travels after last Christmas. In 2019, we spent nearly 6 weeks together - the longest stretch since she was in high school. I got used to her being part of our daily life. I've come to realize that missing my daughter is an ordinary part of life - not just during COVID times. But it seems a bit more pronounced these days because we don't have a "choice" to visit. I better understand as a middle aged adult what my mother felt when I moved away from home many years ago. We grew up in Alaska and I was the only child to "leave to the lower 48." While we visited often, Mom knew we'd never live close again. That must have meant a special kind of loss for her - a quiet form of grieving the passing of our regular time together. Zoom, texting, and cell phones have made the distance much smaller. But I cannot be there for Mom or my daughter to help when they do not feel well. Mom got COVID-19 five weeks ago - and while we were all afraid she may get pneumonia, she fared okay at home. Her main symptoms post-COVID are dizziness, shortness of breath, and tiredness. We are grateful it wasn't worse. And, we hope that there are not invisible effects that will appear later. This photo - to close - is of a patchwork stocking I made in the weeks before Christmas. Our daughter "zoomed" with us as she opened her gifts -- 2020 Christmas was one of a handful I'll never forget. One passed in Northwest China when she was a toddler and we had a paper tree with paper ornaments on the wall. Another where my father was very sick from cancer and yet he rode the snow machine out to get the tree. And another when I did not go home and my father would pass days later. Among those years which stand out were many beautiful holidays spent either in Alaska or our home in the Lower 48 with family and friends. This year's was sad and sweet and beautiful.
January 5, 2021