THIS IS WHAT I HAVE TO SAY ABOUT THAT

I began this foray into writing as my self-prescribed therapeutic escape. Little did I know it would prove to be a much needed respite for me throughout the previous years’ absurdity. It provided fodder for some unfortunate ranting, some unexpected raves and some lovely recollections. It was a sucky year. And that’s the way the cookie crumbled, collapsed and went to shit.

When COVID swooped in, and with it the out of control effort to mask, avoid and quarantine, I was a dancin’ fool. I eyeballed my rectangular screen with immense concentration… stretching and gyrating my bootie off, engaging in palates, yoga and doing something recommended by my daughter, called Dance Church – which has nothing to do with piousness in a religious sense but rather in the emotional love of moving about your bedroom for 55 minutes of pure abandonment. It’s where you toss the bad energy away – stir up the love and the good energy – throw it up to the sky and let it sparkle rain on you.

When the pandemic continued to rain on my parade, I stayed home and continued to make lists of all that I would accomplish. And now, by all accounts, I have a whole boatload shitload of – lists.

I started knitting again… we will see what half-baked thingy I make of those stitches. I cooked lots  – all fully baked and mostly yummy. But sometimes it took a LOT to drag my weary butt to the kitchen to get a move on and get cookin’. So an occasional night of ordering in was a much appreciated and welcome event. And I indulged… boy did I indulge.

My patience wore thin early on when people didn’t do the proper and sane-thinking choreography. And, again, I stayed the hell home.

But I saved lots of money as I embraced my platinum shock of hair. And every now and then, as I lazed around in my comfy clothes, I would peek inside my closet eager to remember what some of my belongings were even intended for. Looking back, I believe some are called pants and that they are fitted with so-called zippers. 

I sang out loud, to myself. Sometimes it was a semi-recognizable song and other times the lyrics were supplied by ME. I cleaned … sometimes. I showered … sometimes. And TV became my bestest friend. Books were read. Really good books. But if you think I can recall even one title or remember what they were about – you are wrong-o.

Also, I discovered that my secret skill is NOT in fitting puzzle pieces together. Especially the one recently acquired based on its most beautiful flowers. It was really, really hard and I would have given up were it not for the determination of my daughter (and the fact that she did about three quarters of it). An interesting note: upon further inspection the flowers are actually smoking pot. Interesting and good on them!

I laid eyes on my friends, my relatives and my children on rectangular screens and Zoomed, Zoomed, Zoomed until we mostly gave up when some people didn’t understand the art of being quiet when others were speaking. And oh how I missed my daughters real-live-and-in-person.

And then it was December 31st.

AND THAT’S ABOUT ALL I WISH TO RECALL ABOUT THAT.

NOW IT’S A NEW YEAR. HOORAY, YIPPIDY-DOO-DA!!

FINALLY …

… cause that last one went to poop in a handbag… or whatever that saying is.

As the hoopla of the countdown to the new year subsides a bit, and speaking directly to 2021, I can only imagine the pressure you must feel. We’ve dumped a whole lot of trouble on you! It’s a lot for one year to handle. But let me reassure you… we have your back. You are not alone. We, the people, need to get it together. I have no doubt it’s going to be one step at a time. You cannot perform abracadabra – no matter how much I hope it to be. So it’ll probably be a few steps forward and several back. But we can and we will persevere. I see love and laughter in our future. I see hugs in our future. Wishing for kindness and thoughtful care of those who need it most. Vaccinations are on the way (sort of). And that’s just the shot in the arm we all need.

Peace out.

-image: Sarah Hurley