5.4.20 - #coronavirus2020 VIII

I miss my wife. I hate it when she’s gone.
Sounds like the lines of a country-western song.
She’s on the road with the girl, again. I’m alone
On the couch, eating feelings and worrying about
All that might go wrong. Even the dog is gone.
Before she left, she hugged me tight and whispered,
“I promise to keep this marriage safe.”
Even though I don’t want to, I wonder,
The inner demons start to play
I worry that she’d rather be in other company
Though she’s the one who begged me to stay.
I want to believe her so bad, I need to
What other choice do I have?
I love her, let her lie, let her go, live a lie?
We hope for something better to grow
Dressed the wounds and sank down below
Layers of sheets and tree, fog and breeze
Even if it hurts, even if it’s the worst outcome
Of a million ways I can see our story going
At least for me, it was worth it to know
Love deep enough to get hurt, live through it
Do no wrong, try to pass no judgment
Tell them you love them, though the hurt shows
Be a better man, do the best you can
Let them know you love them, every time they go.

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Anyone else scared out of their mind about how bad it’s gonna be by June? Asian killer bees, a likely explosion of pandemic cases in Georgia. People out like everything’s fine, not wearing masks. In a few weeks… Jesus. It worries me. Seems like the worst possible sci-fi plot.

I think my money is now on “Rushed Vaccine Causes Zombification,” at this point. Or we go to war with China over the lie of who manufactured the virus? That puts the Red Dawn scenario at play. But I’m lucky, able to arm-chair speculate from the relative safety of a back porch. Crickets are in the background. Some people aren’t so lucky. The virus is ravaging minorities at a savagely disproportionate rate, evidence of a medical system in need of desperate and complete reform.

Maybe it’s the fatalist in me, but I’m trying to make sure I tell my family I love them. Even when things hurt. Even when they hurt.

3.30.20 - #corona2020 V

Is there anyone sleeping well anymore?
Either the brain is rolling a thousand miles
An hour, in the haunted still of night
Or the walls are too tight and we’re desperate for daylight
I don’t remember the last time I laid my head down
And felt rested the next morning, renewed
We’re sitting on our hands, trying to pass the time
Reflecting on all our mistakes, all the lies

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It’s been hard to be productive. I’ve gotten the job done, now thankful that I have a steady income when one out of five has filed for unemployment, including J. Trying to do yoga in the sunroom followed by elliptical bands and the recumbent bike lying in the garage, just to move a little during the week. Hoping I can find a bit of drive to really edit GR and work on the Robyn story. Need something to do, to feel useful.

J seems to have gotten L to a place where she’s a little more stable. We’re still a long way from out of the woods yet, but every day is a won day. Even when the world outside is falling into a recession unlike anything ever seen in modern history, due to a viral pandemic and a political narrative out of a Michael Chrichton novel. D is coughing less, thankfully we don’t think anyone has COVID but since there’s still not a real chance of us getting tested in our current condition, we’re just riding out the storm.

Thankful for little moments, like D winning at Cards Against Humanity. Chasing Janeway in the backyard. Playing Diablo with J at three in the morning, dancing in the living room during dinner.

3.15.20 - #corona2020

Maybe we’re all going a little mad at the idea
Plucked straight out an eighties sci-fi novel
Empty shelved truths are stranger fictions
When a virus can spread at the worst of times
Bringing people to whimpers of shared terror
When nightmares awaken our lesser demons

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Funny, today was my most productive day writing, in a while. Meanwhile, outside our little quarantine zone, seems like the hubcaps are coming off, if not the wheels. The shelves were emptied at the bigger stores. Toilet paper has become a meme in our ironic pessimistic chuckle towards self-destruction. None of us can go to work tomorrow, so we’re all stuck here another week. Two with doctors notes for self-quarantine (even though neither got tested because there were no kits), and two because their schools closed for a week. We’re trying to keep each other sane, co-existing and being bored. For me, it’s easy. For the girls, who are dealing with the traumas of their past head-on while the world seems to be imploding outside, it’s been rough.

I don’t know what I can say sometimes that’ll make them feel better, what’ll help. I’ve learned that if I just sit there and say I’ll listen, sometimes that helps. Maybe it just helps us all, to not be miserable alone, in the dark. Just to know that someone else is sitting there, next to you.

Now I’m gonna go set next to my spouse and let her cry on my shoulder. Love those around you, y’all.