In search of story

November 23.20: Coping


Fear is served,

heaped, cold, on unseen platter

where empty table

speaks to us.

There was picnic once,

soda fizz

and bright mustard,

where now only air

teasing whispers from

dry grass.

In barren quiet

the words come:

what if I’m the only one?



In this country, dear reader, we enter Thanksgiving week torn. No: shredded. How do we celebrate isolation and dread? If we try to “count our blessings,” how are we not trivializing the losses among us?


More thanks to photographer S.W. Berg for this poignant image.


5 thoughts on “November 23.20: Coping

  1. Oh, Maureen, I think we were channeling when you wrote this. 🙂 Happy Monday of a Thanksgiving week like we’ve never seen. Stay well.

    • I would not doubt for a minute that we were channeling. A Thanksgiving week like no other, for sure — and may there never be another one like it. You stay well too, Judy!

  2. It’s so tempting to say something cheerful (and I do hope I am safe to imagine you have set aside at least one Thanksgiving treat of the sweet kind I see you celebrating here) but important too to highlight the year’s losses. Perhaps that is what being grateful is all about.

    • It’s hard to grasp gratitude this year without feeling guilty since so many have lost so much. There is a balance, perhaps, that time brings. My son and daughter-in-law cleverly designed a heated outdoor eating space on their deck, and so we got to eat together. When we weren’t eating, we were masked, but that was nothing. It was so wonderful to be with them — even elbow bumps are a luxury these days! And, yes, dessert. Prime goo.

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