F. gets his first shot of the Pfizer vaccine today.
Thursday, March 11, 2021
There are days I feel the presence and consolation of God’s protection, and days I don’t. The sinister variants are still out there. But it’s unseasonably warm here in Minnesota--that season when everything is tossed up in the air: brilliant and warm one day, a snowy blizzard the next. I feel vulnerable, a little afraid, a little hesitant about leaving my winter’s cocoon. I am not quite sure I can meet the demands of a life more exposed.
Wednesday, March 10, 2021
I’m trying to stay positive, focus on the two little girls I’m teaching to read, getting Max through his two courses. Hoping for a vaccine for F. in the next weeks or months. Still in a sort of stasis but trying to envision a realistic future. On April 15, two weeks past my second dose of vaccine, I’m going to celebrate: get together with my best friend and her partner, get my hair cut! Small, wondrous things.
Friday, March 5, 2021
Tim, Joe’s brother, has just died of covid. This feels like a crushing defeat. I remember Tim from my teens, as young and slim, sandy-haired and blue-eyed. (This may or may not be accurate). Defined by the tantalizing news that he played minor-league baseball—and was later drafted by the Atlanta Braves. A sort of golden boy, fascinating but remote, like a beautiful planet.
I feel an implacable undertow of grief. Death is too close and out of my control.
Forging the Second Self: Post-Teaching, Post-Mothering, Post-Midlife: Who Will I Be Now? Part I.: Who Am I Now? When I see myself a...