I’m here. I’ll tell you. Long Covid pacing is a bitch. All I have to do is do one thing I don’t necessarily want to do and what I want to do is pushed back into the oblivion of maybe tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll write. Maybe tomorrow I’ll go swimming. Maybe tomorrow I’ll paint something. Okay, I’ll admit. I don’t paint anything but rocks. When they’re dry, I put them back out into the wild, little messages to the world. Once, I visited a friend’s home for lunch and saw one of my rocks in a bowl with other rocks in her living room. She and I were connected in more ways than one. I didn’t tell her it was mine. I haven’t painted any blessing rocks in a long time. I used to think of it as a way to thank the space where I wandered and the other people who wandered there.
Maybe I need to paint some new blessing rocks. I loved doing it because I didn’t hold myself to any standard of beauty. I just tossed the ugly ones deeper in the brush, to bless the little plants that grow wonky in our world.
But first, I have to make my breakfast and go to yet another appointment.
Thank you for listening, jules