Back to work

My man returned to work at the museum today, as their policy is five days after testing positive for Covid, if you have no symptoms without medication, then you go back to work and wear a mask for five days. My daughter in law told me about her friend, the maid of honor at her wedding, who also came down with Covid over Thanksgiving, her second time. Her husband tested negative. He is a teacher, and his school told him that even though his wife was down with the virus, meaning he had most certainly been exposed, if he was negative then he needed to come to work. For myself, a week and two days after testing positive, I feel fine, though the joint aches are back—I realize it was the OTC meds that kept the pain more quiet than usual last week. But I'm used to this body now, and I keep on. 

I have mountains of laundry to do from Thanksgiving, sheets and comforters and pillowcases and towels, and lots of errands to run, and today is the day I mask up and get back to it. Second pass pages for the book I wrote this year also just came through, so I'll need to sit in front of the big window, looking out at the view as I deal with those. You think a book is done once you deliver a manuscript, but in fact, the production stages can feel endless. I know some writers merely skim the pages on this round, but I feel as if I need to still read every word. My OCD won't let me trust that every last typo or word echo has been caught, every awkward sentence construction fixed. Something always slips through, but I feel less badly about that if I at least tried. The cover design of the book, which is titled Belonging and will be published on March 14, also got sent to us yesterday. It's the third version of a cover, and I like this one better than the previous two, although as the co-writer I have no say. But my book subject, the author, likes this cover fine, too. I can't share it here, yet, not until it goes up on Amazon. But my name is on this one, which tells the story of a biracial daughter's search for the mother who abandoned her at birth. My subject is happy with how the book turned out. Look at that. We made magic one more time. 

I'm in a rather strange mental space at the moment. The world feels so very removed, perhaps because I've been indoors for a week, away from the hustle and bustle of the season. I feel adrift somehow, out of life's flow. The photos here of me with my children, taken on Thanksgiving, are really about reminding myself that I am deeply connected to some other humans in this world, who anchor me. They're both busy, busy, busy at work these days, and their loved ones, too. These young people work hard. I hope, whatever you're up to these days dear friends, you're getting a bit more rest than they are.