This year, 55, no narrative, just words, single words:
COVID. Screens. Zoom. Skype. Distance.
Rumination. Regret. Review. Dissonance.
Need. Analysis. Envy. Conflict. Incongruity. Yearning.
Friendship. Renewal. Support. Appreciation.
Home. Maudlin. Melancholy.
Family. Love. Far. Touch. Aging. Loss. Sorrow. Sadness. Longing.
Hope. Anticipation. Finding. Recovery.
I love words and I love writing. In the past few months I’ve needed words to describe very specific feelings, thoughts and ideas and while the same word exists both in English and Spanish, they often do not convey the same meaning, the same feeling or the same cultural reference. Sometimes, a word said in Spanish fits better, at other times it’s better in English. The word faith for example, in Spanish, FE, (for me) is always tied to religious faith and God like intervention and I never use it because it doesn’t feel right. While when I think of it in English, FAITH, it feels better, it feels more generous in an everything-will-be-okay kind of way, no need for God. There is a lot going on in the world and finding words that reflect a universal experience, provide universal comfort or convey universal understanding seem unattainable. So, for now we are left with deeds not words, and while we sit here moored to the uncomfortable despair, we need to add a deed to our words, one that shows kindness, conveys understanding and offers alliance.
Remembering: when I was growing up we would stay with my grandparents often and my grandma used to look after five grandchildren: myself, my two brothers and cousins. She had to be creative entertaining us while my grandfather took his daily after lunch nap. She taught us how to play canasta it is a VERY LONG game that would keep us quiet except when someone won the center card stack “se llevo el pozo!!” which would lead to loud cheers and teasing of the fool who gave the stack away. She would also have the five of us pluck her gray hair. She would sit on a stool while my grandfather napped and in order for us to be quiet she would give us tweezers and we would pluck out her gray hairs. This was fun ... and I think the reason why at age 80 she still had a full head of black hair. She would also take us to their ranch and pack the back of a blue station wagon full of food. A couple of us would sit in the back bench of the car holding our legs high above large aluminum foil covered containers of rice and refried beans. When we got there she would take the mattresses of the three beds off the box spring and lay them on the floor to make 6 beds so that we each had our own. In the evenings she would give us glass jars with holes on the lid so we could catch lightning bugs and sit down with them in our hands to listen to my grandfather tell his ongoing story of the new adventures of a tiger. Today ... looking up at the smoky moonless sky I think - we’ve GOT TO make changes so that kids can have a planet 🌍 where they can enjoy their grandparents.
Yesterday I greeted my 6 year old and his family in the new gathering space at the new Sunny Hill, me: face shield in place - I cheerily say "Good morning gang", my kid LEAPS out of his chair mask under his nose, and RUNS over to show me his Mum's phone where he is playing a T-Rex-destroy-the-city dinosaur game while he roared loudly (through his mask), moved his hands like a T-rex and smiled broadly (I could see it in his eyes despite the mask) while making sure and purposeful eye contact so I decide to roar back. He shrieks, runs back to his Mum to hand over the phone and comes back to hug my legs. He then grabs my hand to walk to the exam room. He then spent the session standing next to me, BY MY SIDE, hand on my thigh and roaring every once in a while - we became easy friends. When I was a resident I used to be scolded for touching patients, holding a hand during bad news, a hug at the end of a difficult session, a comforting arm squeeze was frowned upon. Here is the thing, medicine cannot be practiced without touch or for that matter nearness, be it for rapport, physical exam or comfort. When this whole mess started I said to my Mum "You can't go out or touch anyone, you could get COVID and could die" To which she responded "Well then I will just die of sadness". SO, let's kick this COVID butt and here's to the HAPPY day when we can TOUCH AGAIN. In the meantime ... ROAR!!
