We are waiting for winter during the first real pandemic to hit since 1918. The models that someone is using to figure these things out says the end of October will be the height of things, at least in my area of Canada. They could be right but I am no scientist. My way of coping is to keep to myself, wear a mask when I can’t and write…write, write write. The writing doesn’t seem to be saving the world, but it is saving my sanity.
I picked up take out fish and chips last night and it was delicious. The wonderful woman behind the counter and the mask was bubbling over with enthusiasm. It was hard to see why. The bright, clean restaurant was empty except for three staff and I wondered about how they could manage to pay all of them. She talked on as she handed me my food and I figured out how to pay and give an appropriate tip for these wonderful people who were feeding me. She told me that this was her second job, that she worked from home in an office job all by herself during the week, that it was so great to see people and that she had gained 18 pounds of covid calories since March. I told her to write. It will take care of the covid stress, maybe not the calories though.
Writing seems to be the cure for all ills, the way to celebrate and the way to grieve at least in my life. Light is low, write, worried about the economy, write, thinking about the political system, write, broke, write. Just do it and the world may not change much but you will.