Masks can make us beautiful or let us get some sleep.
They hide our identity and let us skulk and creep.
Masks can let us have some fun and fool our fellow man.
We wear them to protect ourselves and others, if we can.
Masks can make us frightful, or hide our frightful selves.
Just be sure to wear them when you shop the grocer's shelves.
May your quarantine and your re-entry into this brave, new world be peaceful.
Here we are, in the middle of the covid-19 crisis. Some people are sure the precautions are an over-reaction. Others, like me, would much rather err on the side of caution, particularly since a close family member is immune-suppressed due to life-saving organ transplants.
When we envision heroic actions, we think in terms of grand gestures, daring deeds that risk lives, feats of strength and visible courage. That doesn’t apply at the moment.
But crisis or no, heroes are among us every day. Heroes donated organs so someone else could live. Less dramatically, but of great importance, within my own family, a single mother is raising a special needs child. Another busy mother is providing care and comfort to her own elderly and failing mother. Partners are coping with their loved ones’ health crises. Young and not-so-young adults are going out to work because they provide essential services to those in need. And all of us, like you, are simply staying away from people, no matter how much we miss the interaction.
We can be heroes. But how do we learn what it takes?
We observe real-life heroic sacrifices. We watch movies. We read books.
As we weather this crisis together, let’s continue to take breaks for relaxation and entertainment so we will have the strength to do whatever is needed. Even if all we have to do is sit on the couch.
Snowbird season is here, again, which finds me seeking warmth in the generally sunny south.
Not only physical warmth, of course. I lived in Florida for 20+ years, so I return to reconnect with family and friends. Yesterday, I also drove past a couple of my former homes. They’ve weathered the separation well. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they didn’t miss me.
I cast my mind back, trying to remember how I felt and what occupied my thoughts at the time I lived there. The job, the colleagues, the yard work, the walks along the seawall. Some memories are fuzzy, others crystal clear.
One central focus hasn’t changed at all–the fictional world inside my head. Dominion was there, along with Soliterre and other planets you’ll encounter as my stories unfold. The places and people brewed and developed a bit over the years, but the seeds have been there forever.
So today, I sit at a stranger’s table in a rented condo, two blocks from a sugar-sand beach, and I write it down. Just as I do at home.
Two men, Denneval and Chesh, live on different planets with very different cultures, yet when both are caught up in the war between their worlds and Denneval is forced to join the troops battling Chesh’s people, the two become bitter enemies, their fates intertwined, as parallel paths bring both men to suffering and alienation from the homes they fought for and people they love.
Denneval is sent to claim Chesh’s world. Chesh is pledged to claim Denneval’s mind.