As it should be abundantly clear if you’ve followed my posting history even slightly, I’ve only managed to write periodically as I have been challenged in catching up with the ever elusive muse over the past few months. I’ve not yet fallen back into the reasonable comfort and drive I felt last October when I started the blog with the goal of trying to find time to write, and post two to three times a week.
That goal might have been a bit overly optimistic for me given I’m still working to rediscover my lost art of more than a couple decades. It appears I’ve yet to establish a process to revisit the muse frequently enough to inspire sufficient content generation, but have also lacked the focus and drive to push the few ideas further along the path to something more shareable than what has been captured in notebooks, post it notes, mind maps, or audio recordings. There will be more on this topic that I will share in time, maybe. I must acknowledge there’s a voice in the back of my head, questioning, somewhat sarcastically, if I ever will.
It’s the afternoon of Father’s Day and I’m lounging on our patio which continues to be our primary living space when the weather co-operates and allows us to relax in comfort. I find myself listening to Dire Straits’ ‘Brothers in Arms‘ album and thinking of my father, now missing for the second of these days. I now know I’ll spend all the Father’s Days ahead celebrating his memory and all that he contributed to my life.
I awoke this morning from a blissfully solid night of sleep; the kind it takes a few minutes for your eyes to un-gum from. Bae prompted the fur kids to wish me a ‘Happy Father’s Day’, but that instruction went unheeded, and despite this I willingly allowed my arm to become pin cushion later in morning after Bae had prepared a wonderful French toast and mimosa breakfast that followed the coffee that finally got the rest of the gunk cleared from my eyes.
Its been a long while since my last post. I haven’t gone back and brushed up on my writings to keep the flow going, so this will be a post from The Now.
The hope that I had that I would get through the pandemic unscathed is now shattered.
I didn’t catch COVID, had no exposures, and am now a member of the Zeneca club having had my first dose; I’ve maintained my isolation and social distancing without a shred of guilt, and I’ve built coping mechanisms as the pandemic stretches on into it’s fifteenth month, but my resilience had been worn down, and I wasn’t bouncing back after tough conversations or another two hour long Zoom session.