I want donuts and pancakes and a big diner breakfast. I want a dip in the hot tub and a deck with a chaise where I can drink my coffee in the morning sun. I want hanging flower baskets and new running shoes and croquet for the late afternoons and for someone besides me to weed the garden plot before planting these seedlings. I want to book two full weeks at Miraval as a reward after all of this.
I want the perfect show to show up on Amazon Prime video and, in the mean time, I’ll watch The Photograph 10 ten times in a row and I want that magical feeling of picking up my guitar and the song just falls out line by line and I pick them all up, and I write them all down and I dust it up just a little and then sing it like I’m some kind of genius. That would be great, thanks.
About every four days I tell my husband that I am losing my dang mind and then he very gently whisks our sons away to the state park for an afternoon hike and then pizza so I can have a few hours alone. Listen, friends, there are enneagram number people and Gallup Strength Finder folks who are locked and loaded and succeeding beyond their wildest dreams with their quiet contemplation and elimination of human distraction and their love of Oolong tea and crafting things in miniature. Then there are me. I am losing my dang mind. I know what’s going on . It’s an exercise in, “Hey Hope, you are an attention hog who can’t function without feedback and contact and now you’re going to practice ridding yourselves of the things you find helpful like driving away and microphones and you’re going to be in pandemic time out until you learn how to be more like your sister- quiet and coloring and dressed for the day.”
I drink coffee and try not to cry. I go for runs for longer and longer even on a bum foot just for the time and the distance and I listen to bands I’ve never listened to before. I stew over Jason Isbell and Lily Hyatt and wear the same four outfits and try to imagine who I’m going to become when this is all over.
And just when I think I’m losing my dang mind for real this time, something magical happens. I kid you not. Something out of nowhere appears and I suddenly I remember that I am still who I am. A twitter friend buys my record, another joins my little Patreon tribe, I impulsively hop on a Facebook Live and people listen and, in that moment, I am still who I am for better and for worse.
I thought I’d have my songs written by now, I thought I’d be used to all this. I thought I’d know how to schedule a day and build order within pandemic. But I haven’t.
And the magic is seeing friends and their gentleness, their humor, their faces smiling on my feed. It’s stopping on a walk to talk to neighbor and bridging the divide measured by six feet. Thanks to everyone. If you’re feeling alone and inactive, please know that you’re not. You’re helping me retain my sanity. Thank you.