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It’s only been 11 days.  Still, I miss my community very much.  Over the last week, I had been sick and so hadn’t quite internalized the depths of isolation I would be experiencing.  I had the benefit of being tired and miserable, which made each day seem faraway.  Now, I’m well.  And this means I’m hungry, restless, and fully aware of this pandemic and its consequences.

What will happen when I return to my community?  Will anything even be the same?  How will all the people I know change?  How will I, myself, change?  Fissures in my world.  Things falling in.  Will I lose some people?  Will the isolation have a profound affect on me psychologically, especially given I do not live with anyone I can confide in?

Creatively, I’m stoked.  I’ve spent the last few days writing poetry and drawing.  I’m happy when doing that.  There are no interruptions anymore.  Ideas I have just bloom and expand.  I get lost in my own flow.  I can actually envision myself finishing a small collection of poetry or a detailed drawing in a matter of weeks, not months or years.  That is great.  But when I snap out of my trance, I remember Earth is turning.  All the people and things are moving through time.  And they are changing, a lot.

What kind of change will I return to?  Change is hard to face.  I’m afraid of it, honestly.  Particularly, I’m afraid of change when I don’t get to witness its gradual process.  I am afraid of change that is sudden, that knocks me off my feet.

However, I have no choice but to make myself ready.