What I don’t want to write about

Here’s what I do not want to write about:

>The shame of being an American when the president of your country is who he is;

>The pain of realizing the deep and painful (and very dangerous) inequities this virus has made visible to all, including but not limited to the “petri dish” of prisons, the “death trap” of assisted living, the terrible irony of “sheltering at home” for the homeless;

>The fear of living in a country so ill-prepared to take care of itself;

>The sadness of living in a country where reason, compassion and integrity are in shorter supply than PPEs;

>The anger of being captive to a moment in which everything, everything, has been transformed into an ideological battle;

And, stay with me for this last one…

>The weariness of hearing one more story, reading one more post, seeing one more pic of someone’s victory with sourdough starter.

What do I want to write about?

>The importance of three-dimensional people in one’s life (no! not holograms);

>The pleasure of a full-body hug;

>The warmth of the family around a table;

>The joy of travel;

>The not-ever-taken-for-granted-again freedom of an unmasked life.