It is the week before Thanksgiving. The pandemic is raging through the states. Some countries and states are considering locking down. Again. California just imposed a 10 pm curfew.
Work is surreal. I go into court and try and get in and out, but I miss the interaction with the lawyers and staff in mental health court. We are a close knit group who work in the trenches trying to help the most voiceless of populations.
Once I get home, I work some more. The work never ends. My clients need visiting which we do remotely. There are motions to write. Notes to update. Files to read. Reports and documents to review. It never ends.
But I feel off kilter. We all do. The world is in a precarious place. We are in the midst of one of the most trying times in history both medically, socially and politically.
Where will this all go? What will happen? A vaccine is on the horizon, but I fear there will be severe economic repercussions for years to come.
It is not all misery however. This pandemic has resulted in some artistic inspiration. I'm working on my last podcast of the year and finishing my first class for my MFA creative writing program. My weekends are full. I've replaced busy weekends on the go with writing.
Still, I yearn for the carefree days where I could travel and roam and see my family and friends sans mask.
Yet, gratitude is key and today I'll end with that. I'm grateful to be here writing today. The blank page is my refuge. My solace. My pen to the page is my everything.
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