It’s been a while but I feel like I need to somehow track these days. We are at the beginning of dealing with a worldwide coronavirus pandemic, COVID-19, not the gentle common cold coronavirus.

This is day 12 of our self quarantining. Dave did leave a few times – grocery store, campus to grab a few things, and the liquor store. He also left to go to the hospital to say final goodbyes to his father. In the midst of this worldwide chaos he had to do that. Say goodbye to his parent. The hospital was on total lockdown and not allowing visitors, but luckily, after some phone calls during the day, they let the family come to the hospital and say goodbye. There won’t be a funeral. There wasn’t a wake or a meal or a gathering. There were only phone calls and texts and a video chat. And, there’s no room for the grief of losing someone. It was pushed so quickly aside to make sure we were fortified with supplies, food items, meds, etc. Or maybe the grief was just added to the grief that we around the world are feeling. And it’s coming in so many forms, anger, anxiety, depression, to name just a few. But it’s heavy, and it’s scary, and it’s so sad. And it doesn’t feel like there’s enough space in anyone’s head or heart to add extra grief, extra stress, extra heaviness. So we do our best to hold it in and then it comes out in little ways, or in big ways. Little snaps, body aches, exhaustion. But it’s there and we are going through it together, even though we’re apart.

Social distancing is what they’re calling it. But really it’s physical distancing. Not within our house, though I’m inclined to do a bit of that right now too. But everywhere else. We can’t leave to see friends and family. As an introvert, this aspect seemed easy at first, but normally there would be the knowledge that I *could* do that if I wanted to. But we can’t. We cross the street if we happen to walk by a neighbor, and say hello in a bit of a daze, and our voices sound strange because it’s weird to be talking to someone besides those in our homes.

And the news is terrifying, so I stay away. I see a few headlines that make my heart race and I can feel nausea creeping into my body, up all the way into my throat and I click away.

This isn’t eloquent or enlightening or important. But we’re on day 12 and I’m tired after waking up every day at 4am or 6am and staring out the window and instantly remembering what’s going on in the world. They say there’s an end to this, but is it three months or is it a year. Will we just be coming out of this next spring? That’s heavier than heavy. That’s unreal and scary and so, so sad.

Hopefully there won’t be a day 150 or a day 300 of this.

Stay home.

xo

——————————————————————————————

Where I Come From

I’m from the fire of the women, the long lineage of strong women.
I’m from the tales told in hushed voices.
I’m from the songs, sung over scotch and sherry.
I’m from the secrets too giant to whisper.
I’m from the sad moments that stay inside the heart, alone.
I’m from the cool breezes beneath a full moon.
I’m from the howls of wolves and the cries of babies.
I’m from regret and sadness.
I’m from big joy that bursts like flames.
I’m from mountain lakes untouched by men and rivers with clear ice cold water.
I’m from activists and survivors.
I’m from soft, warm, nurturing hands.
I’m from the edges and the shadows.
I’m from the womb of nothingness and everything.
I’m from the headlights in the driveway that usher the news.
I’m from heavy weights and light words.
I’m from honey that drips ever so slowly and sweetly.
I’m from the light.
I’m from her voice that always said yes.
I’m from his wandering soul.
I’m from lies and truths shrouded in love.
I’m from desire.
I’m from soft earth.
I’m from the water.
I’m from the freedom of the sky.
I’m from the thighs of the mothers who came before me with longing and power.
I’m from their voices whisper “now.”
I’m from the darkness.
I”m from the fields.
I’m from stardust.
I’m from legends and myths.
I’m from goddesses.
I’m from them.
I’m from small memories.
I’m from old, warm quilts wrapped around them.
I’m from ecstasy.
I’m from pain they didn’t, couldn’t mention.
I’m from fear of losing.
I’m from fear of being; really being.
I’m from fingers folding crisp sheets that smell of grass.
I’m from hot chocolate sauce and dollar bills.
I’m from so many places and spaces.
I’m from the time before they considered each other.
I’m from the earth.
I’m from the fire.

She said P.S. I love you, you’re great. 

She said Let me lift some of it for you.

She said Seeing myself reflected in you was such a gift, because you’re cool as shit and it made me feel that cool too.

She said You are awesome and you are enough.

She said You are looking hot today.

She said I love your energy.

She said I can’t wait for you to go bananas on this world and just dazzles us with magic. 

She said I wish you lived down the street.

She said Apparently vulnerability is our superpower.

She said I’m so proud of you. You’re rocking and rolling with your biz!

She said I’ll never want to leave you, mommy.

sandalwood and resin with a smokey finish
temples overflowing with ginger and incense
warm forests of pine and earth
sea salt of baltic seas spilling amber out of her warm hands
soft patchouli necks and wrists
old oak casks of dry red wine
cloves and cinnamon with hints of vanilla
coconut and lavender and rosemary intermingling

::the scent of her lingers

a space

and even during the
best moments
and
the greatest times
times

we will know it

we will know it
more than
ever

there is a place in the heart that
will never be filled
and

we will wait
and
wait

in that space.”

― Charles Bukowski