i feel like i am swimming upstream.
or like i am slogging through thick, deep mud.
or that i am on a beach of loose rocks that make every step shifting and difficult.
there is so much on my mind - and not enough room to process all of it. so where to even start.
the to-do list at work. it feels awkward because i don't have an assistant and there are multiple zoom and conference calls schedulued for this week.
the 1,451 COVID tests that were done in our community on friday and saturday are weighing on my mind - what might the results do for our slowly reopening way of life?
also, so much to read and learn and process about how people live and move and share space - thoughts to think, words to write, books to read, history to unlearn and learn.
it is fire season, and all that entails - stretches of time apart from each other, reunions to look forward to and process.
isaac and maddie are 15 and almost 17, and parenting is amazing and hard and wonderful.
my parents were going to come visit us in a few days. now, because of all the unknowns with COVID, they aren't.
this evening, i sat in my backyard for a couple hours and moved with the sun, like some creature intent on staying in the warmest, brightest slivers of light. my skin is warm and brown and salty. summer is my best habitat.