Lost Things…
I want to see my kids.
I want to meet my granddaughter when she’s born.
I want to hug people.
I want to not feel the world is dying every single day.
I want to feel joy.
I miss the gym.
I’m sad about losing my friend, Mike.
I miss yoga class in person and talking to people before and after.
I miss talking to people.
I miss being friendly. Because I’m a friendly person.
I miss leisurely walking through the grocery store and not thinking, I might die if I stay here.
I miss movies.
I miss theater.
I miss hugging.
I miss feeling safe.
I miss being inside places, and that feeling nice, not threatening.
I miss not worrying about our democracy and our government every. single. day.
Maybe I was too complacent, but democracy was something I counted on.
I miss looking forward to things.
Making plans.
Seeing people I work with.
I feel stressed about what to do about my writing. Books? Plays? Television? All of them?
Sometimes it feels like too much and I feel stressed and confused and it would be easier if someone just told me what to do. But that’s not how it works.
I want to be successful. I want to buy a house.
I want my family closer — at least part of the time.
I want Biden to win.
I want our world to heal.
I want to not cry every day.
I want this sadness and outrage I feel to go away
I want to feel like the country will keep humming along just fine and I don’t have to worry all the time.
I want to sleep well.
I want to have people over.
I want to see people and not worry if I’m too close, if they’re too close.
I hate him, whose name I will not write. I hate all of them for not caring that people are dying, are sick and broke.
I want justice. I want peace.
I want people to be kind to each other.
I never had to worry about voting, I just did it because this is America. This was America.
I want to meet my granddaughter.