I just want it to end.
It’s too much for me to think about anything past the oncoming day. Tonight I’m feeling my resistance to the whole damn thing. I don’t want it. I don’t want these waves. I want to go back up the beach and be on quiet sand. But, nope. No no no. This is it and the waves don’t stop — they keep on coming. I don’t even look at the news and I can feel it. I close my eyes, my palms outward after dancing with my daughter in an Instagram live dance class. I hold still and open my palms wide to feel the other 2,800 people who have just danced along with us. I feel it. The good energy. My heart beats hard and I am right here in my own body.
The wave crashes.
I already feel tired of it all and it’s only been ______. I am exhausted worrying about something that might/will eventually touch all of us. It’s starting to creep into my periphery.
There is a pile of clothes on my bed. During the day, I toss this mound of random clothing items onto the bed. At night, I move it into the girls’ room. In the morning, to make space again, I move it back onto our bed, a few items added with each location change. Back and forth. Back and forth. Maybe tomorrow I will put them all away.