I have moved 4000 km from my home and I am attempting to make my way in a new community. I am over sixty, overweight, overzealous and overwhelmed. But I am writing. I am writing and that is my salvation. Even if the writing is just like this, for no one to see, it is my way of probing the soul, doing a health check on my well being. Hello, in there. Are you okay? Are you lonesome?
This pandemic has taught me that I am well and truly an extrovert, soaking up energy from others. But the introverted part of me, the quiet, mulling-over-meaning, deconstructing and considering conversations part of me — even brief encounters in the single grocery store — allows me to write. I’m just figuring out this website, how it works, what it means, but, for now, while my extroverted heart longs for company, I can be still and look inside. And be very grateful for my writing practice.