It wasn’t a great one but at least I occasionally got to do something other than work. Two years of grief, clearing junk, and other life stuff that started pretty much the same time the pandemic shutdowns ended has been a bit of chore. Maybe a chore isn’t understating it a bit, it’s broken my soul. It’s ruined my health. It’s damaged my relationships. Soooo not great.

Somedays the only thing keeping my head out of oven is a sliver of hope that within a few months I can be standing in a renovated cabin, debt free, drinking coffee and listening to gothic cabaret while I bake biscuits and stare at the trees. I won’t the younger child working on their art in the tiny house, being themselves and popping up for coffee as often as they can tolerate me singing the wrong words and making dreadful puns.

I want elder child settled in with his mother and immersed in his chosen tech career. Maybe looking up from screen occasionally and deciding to visit me.

I want all the money, work, life stress back under control. I want the time to have a meal that hasn’t been reheated in the microwave. I want the constant stress to stop ravaging my body and causing constant pain from the inflammation. I want to take a drive that doesn’t involve going to a hardware store or doctor.

Is that too much to ask?