Blank

Photo: L. Weikel

I can’t explain it. I’ve literally been sitting here in front of my keyboard for a good hour. Typing. Deleting. Typing. Going for it, heading down a path. Deleting. The result? I have 20 minutes left and essentially a blank screen before me.

Make that 16 minutes.

I’m rather perplexed. I feel as though nothing has changed and everything has changed. Perhaps it’s the receipt of my first Thanksgiving Zoom invitation. I’m not sure how I feel about it.

I’m digesting what it means.

Existential

Yeah, maybe I’m going all ‘existential’ on myself and setting my teeth on edge. Or more accurately, clenching my teeth until my jaw aches. What is it?

Perhaps I’ve been able to allow time to take on an entirely different dimension since March. As we’ve sequestered ourselves, withdrawn, basically become hermit-like in our quest to keep from becoming spreaders or receivers of the Coronavirus, my concept of time and reality has shifted.

Yes, I think that could be part of what’s causing a tickling sensation at the back of my neck. That sense that things aren’t quite right.

Every once in a while I think about my son’s upcoming marriage. And then I realize, no, wait. The wedding already happened. They’ve been married almost six weeks already.

How can that be?

Thanksgiving

And that’s how I’m sitting here feeling about Thanksgiving this year. Quite honestly, I’ve tried not to think about it much. I do not want to be a vector to my mother-in-law. And yet she is lonely. Of course she’s lonely.

I’ve tried not to think about Thanksgiving because I won’t be able to spend it with my (our) kids, either. None of them. Regardless of whether they live near or far, it’s not happening. They all have jobs (or each other) that deal with too many people, many of whom defiantly insist upon a misperceived right to spray their germs in the air all around them.

The selfishness we’re witnessing all around us makes me sad.

And I guess it’s left me feeling blank.