A Heavy Fog

A fog. Inexplicable really. But I guess everything can be explained by Covid and quarantine lately. Had a vivid nightmare about contamination last night and I feel fuzzy and tired today. In many ways I don’t know what to do with myself. I’ll be gentle. Tread lightly. I’ve been working hard and it’s satisfying and something. It’s some thing. But I don’t feel fully right. I have days of okayness. Days of this is actually pretty nice, owning my schedule, following the patches of sunlight through different areas of my house. Today is murky. Today I didn’t want to write. They say those are the moments you need to write the most. So I guess that’s what I’m here doing. Showing up for myself. I don’t have normal days, average days. I always feel fully different. Maybe now is a good time to create words for this range of emotion. Tired. Emotional. Also energetic.

Thinking about my friend who passed away two years ago. I think about what she would have done in California. How she would have lived this life I’m living if she had a chance to. It’s a strange feeling but I feel I carry her with me. Sometimes I think if I do something then we both did it. Like she can live through my experience. I think she would like this life. It’s all the things we talked about. Sunshine, lovers and loafed of fresh baked bread. The dark feelings don’t leave but they have a softer padding now. I have room to catch myself rather than intensify the discomfort with bad decisions or bad lighting. I wish she had that padding. She had the Vineyard. Fresh shucked corn, tennis matches, beaches and bottles. The vineyard is enough soft padding for a lifetime. That’s why it’s so special.