Day #194 Writing Through COVID-19: Dreams and Worries

Last night I dreamed Andrea and Max sent Wolf to me for a week. They couldn't travel because of COVID, but they sent Wolf in a box.

As I gazed at him, I thought this must be a dream. He can't really be here. But then I reached out and picked him up, and his physicality was genuine. He was solid and soft and real: I was holding an 11-week-old baby. It was not a dream.

As I gazed at him, I realized his nose ended in a point. I thought, hmm, his nose doesn't look pointed in the photographs!

When I woke up, I felt so happy I'd held him and felt him, even if he had a pointy nose. Even if it wasn't real.
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My mother-in-law continues to worry. Right now she's concerned that the glare from her laptop might be hurting her vision. This spiral of worry began when one of her granddaughters shared a photo in which a child was wearing sunglasses while attending school virtually. 

Thus began her descent into computer-vision-syndrome worry.

This woman is a Hardanger artist and hand-quilter. She darns socks. I mean, she has lots of reasons for eye strain, including the time she spends writing lovely letters to dozens of lonely nursing home residents. 

"Are your eyes feeling strained?" I asked during our nightly outdoor, masked visit (which has replaced our indoor accordion practices since I've returned to school and now have increased community contact).

"No," she said. "But I don't want to damage my eyes."
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At 91, this woman has more energy than most 40-year-olds. She remembers more than I do. She's agile and funny and strong. She cleans her own house, cooks her own meals. Pre-COVID she played piano at the nursing home for the daily chapel services.

But her radar for decline is on high alert. A few weeks ago she had a flash of blackout after standing up quickly. A 30-year-old would bat that aside without a moment's worry; she thought it might be a brain tumor.

Telling her she's thriving doesn't seem to ease her hyperfocus on each aspect of her physical and mental health. In truth, who can blame her? As well as she's doing today, she can't really hope for improvement, only a slowing of the decline. 

How did this blog post take such a dark turn?
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Let me remember the lesson from yesterday's NCTE "Mindful Writing" webinar: worry is in the past (regret) or in the future (anxiety). But in the breath of here and now, we're okay. Hold the pen. Stay in the moment.

Enough.
Be well.
Write.

Allison

His nose is perfect.