I’ve been avoiding you because I can’t write much at one time. I used to be able to write three to five pages a day, but now sometimes a paragraph is too much. I’m okay with my 280 characters on Twitter, usually, but more is hard. Editing is really hard. Logic, organization, and spelling elude me. I had always believed you would require more of me than 280 characters.
Oh, who am I kidding? Some days a handful of words for a fractured poem is too much. Would that be enough for you?
Today, I’ve been lounging with earbuds in, listening to podcasts because I can doze and it’s easier not to lose my place. Yesterday, I took a short walk and I’m paying the price. This morning, the fatigue tested my resolve to keep trying. “Just keep swimming,” I hear Dorie say, but the water is thick and I am tired.
Still, I am here. Long Covid is the new polio. I keep trying to tell you about my experience with it. One of you might need to hear.
Yesterday, as I trudged along then sat at a picnic table, the sun was out, fishermen were out, kayakers, dogs and their people were out, even a mating pair of bald eagles were out. It was abundantly beautiful. I wrote: I wish I could sit in my kayak, fingers dangling in the water. I wish I could smell the algae of the lake the way I could as a kid with my nose just above the surface as I watched a bluegill kiss my knee.
I may be paying a price, but what a purchase.
Thank you for listening, jules