I remain – like everyone else – in my self-contained bubble. Preserving sanity to whatever degree possible by my “doing”. Daily news updates are depressing. Covid cases continue to surge. Hospitals are overrun. The Covid variant that has emerged in the last number of weeks appears to be more threatening than ever. It is not easy to remain optimistic. It is not easy to feel safe, let alone certain about what lies ahead.
For the first time the immediacy of madness prevails, not to be ignored. The instinct to preserve familiar elements of normalcy are proving to be an increasing challenge. There is no script – no play book. Like everyone else, I find myself moving cautiously from one day to the next. It is the movement itself that allows for some semblance of sanity.
Some days are easier than others. Some days, one sip of wine leads to another. Some days tears come from nowhere. Some days I walk less, sleep less, worry more. I cannot say with any confidence what the future holds, let alone tomorrow. I find myself ever grateful for the simple kindness of friends. Phone chats and messages sent to check in. Mindless scrolling through Facebook posts passes the time, and offers a kind of grounding in each day. Having a sense of other people, and their lives offers its own kind of reassurance.
Most importantly, I give thanks for each day. For better or worse, I am thankful as one day folds into the next. The dog will be walked. The cat will be fed. Maybe I will wash the floor today. Maybe I won’t. in all likelihood I will check the latest Neftlix listing before the day ends.
Whatever else, I remain mindful that life is precious. This comes to mind time and again when I sit down at my laptop, allowing my mind to wander – to catch hold of an image or a phrase. And there it is: a poem in the making.