My coronavirus life redux

I’m in a writing group that usually meets once a month. Except now during the corona virus stay at home orders, we’re meeting twice a month – what else do we have to do – in one of those ubiquitous Zoom meetings. By the way, that is working out very well.

So mostly we write about how we’re doing during this pandemic. And some of our writing has turned out to be pretty grim – and very honest about how we’re feeling. That’s how people in writing groups should behave, right?

The piece I wrote at yesterday’s meeting, using the prompt to write a lost or found poem, went like this:

Today has probably been the worst of all days since we were told to stay home. I’ve lost my enthusiasm – even for sitting down and writing here this afternoon. No, don’t worry. I’m not sick. I’m just down in the dumps. And even though I’m still walking every morning and writing my April poem a day and journaling, I feel like I’m not accomplishing anything. Shouldn’t we use this at home time to write, cook, read up a storm. And yet, I feel like the up-a-storm part is somehow lost in the woods somewhere. I think I could be cleaning out cupboards, organizing my computer and my paper files, parting ways with shelves of books, giving away clothes I know I’ll never wear again – yet I do none of those things. Instead I wallow.

This has also become a time when I think about my dead son a lot. I’m writing poems about him again. I’m bringing up those old memories over and over. I can’t seem to get him out of my mind. Maybe I’m feeling closer to him now than ever before.  I also wonder how he would have reacted to living through this hard pandemic time.

A friend of mine thinks that every day is ground-hog day. I can relate. I feel like I’m lost in the sameness – get up, go for a walk, have breakfast, take a shower, write, read, take a nap, watch the news, cook dinner, watch tv, and go to bed – over and over again every day. I’ve lost the variety that our freedom to move from place to place created. And I’ve lost the hope that we’ll ever have that again. I keep thinking that my normal life is over. Lost.


So needless to say, this whole crazy mess has gotten to me. Even though I spend a lot of time at my writing desk or at the sink washing my hands, I feel that my work has become almost meaningless.

Please let me know how you are doing. Let’s get a conversation going.

And please stay safe and healthy.

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