I’d say I have an above average memory — one that can span all the way back to near infancy, in some places. I mean I don’t actively remember every second of every day, though if I think back hard enough to what I call the “major” landmarks, I can start building out what I remember around them and connect them with days prior to and days after that “landmark” event. It’s why I say I don’t “actively” remember things – I think the data is still there, it’s just buried in all the other shit my brain has to sift through on a daily basis.
Anyway, point being, I’ve been basically isolated from other humans, places other than my home (except the grocery store and the path that I walk every day), for over a month now. I only see Ormsby (rarely) and my cats. If I talk to anyone it’s via phone, text, or instant messenger. That’s it. And this isn’t a complaint. It’s been quiet, I’ve gotten a lot of stuff done that I probably ordinarily would not have made time for. In some ways, I’m living my best life right now.
What I’m getting at here, though, is that because it is so unusually quiet, and because there is not anything that ties me to the “here” (and, in fact, it is really easy to lose track of what day or time it is), I’m finding it easier to really immerse myself into the books I’ve been planning (and writing) for a really long time. See, although I’m going to change the names of places, people, etc., I’m pulling all of what’s in there right out of my own memory. They are prequels, really, to what I’ve written here over the years — what came before… what was FIRST.
It’s all there – it always has been – plotted out on paper, outlined, archives in place to jog my memory… but now, with the world so much quieter and so much slower, I can actually make some progress. I can… well.. vanish… back into those times. I can live in them again (and I’m being really careful to revisit only the good stuff right now – even I know better than to dredge through the bad shit when there’s nothing out there to wake myself back up again). A world without COVID, without bills, where I was mercilessly naive (and that makes me laugh now) and trying to navigate a world I didn’t understand, but was fascinated with. I get to turn all this over again and look at it and I realized, as I was walking today and thinking about what I was writing, I’m really watching myself transform into what I am now. It’s fascinating.
To, I have to dig deep, in some ways, because I’m talking about pulling up shit that happened to me over twenty years ago now. In so much detail that whoever reads these things will SEE these people. Will HEAR their voices. Will SMELL and FEEL what I did. I’m resurrecting ghosts, in a way (even if not all of them are dead), and to do anything less doesn’t feel like I am doing those people, or those places, or those times (or myself) the justice that they deserve. At any rate, when I get to the place I need to be, it’s like there are voices from the past echoing off my walls. Conversations that I now remember verbatim that I could not easily access before. And instead of freaking out over whether that stuff is still there and what I’ll do if it isn’t, I’m trusting that it will be there when I need it… and so far, they have been.
It will still be months (years, even) before this is finished. Though if I keep writing like this, maybe not so long. It is, after all, hard to convince myself to leave, sometimes, and come back into this other reality.
- Really more of the same — though I am finding that this has been a really creative time for me. I had worried that I was losing my touch. Turns out, I just needed some quiet.
- My knee is really recovering!! I’m not running yet (and may not for quite a while), but can now consistently walk at my brisk speed-walking pace for 2.5 miles. Daily. I’m working back up to three, which was where I was at prior to the injury. I can’t credit COVID for all of this, because this has been 2+ years coming (with many physical therapy sessions, multiple cortisone injections, plus an expensive, out of pocket, experimental procedure that apparently worked (PRP Injection)), but my need to get out of the house every day has made me want to prolong the time I spend out there rebuilding this thing… and I may very well come out of this a totally recovered woman.