The Story So Far

Looking back on the Pandemic Year, season by season.

Photo by British Library on Unsplash


The early weeks began with optimism and self-optimization intermingled with the rising panic. I began to craft an intensive writing schedule and turned to extreme acts of physical exertion under the blazing Texas sun to bade away my rising levels of anxiety. I bought an electric guitar and dusted off my electric mixer. Friends locked themselves in their households, too fearful of the unknown enemy to even wave across their front lawn. Toilet paper was missing for weeks, and my roommates snagged one of the last bidets in town, which we all frequented until the grocery store inventory righted itself. The weeks stretched on and on, lonely, shapeless, a large question mark looming into infinity.

Photo by British Library on Unsplash


Summer was brutal and traumatic, stuffed with extreme temperatures over 105 degrees, marinating in a stew of mishandled policy and rampant misinformation. I moved houses, quit my receptionist job after a wildly mishandled COVID scare and general right-wing weirdness from upper management, and began applying to an Infinitum of jobs that I was and was not qualified for, some at home, and some abroad. Tensions came to a crescendo, with racial justice protests being sparked nationally, finally forcing the mainstream media to grapple with our country’s faulty, horrid, and undeniably unequal foundations; wildfires ravaged the west coast — a friend in Portland sent me a photo of the hellish view out of her window, the whole city blanketed in red light; relief packages began to fizzle out, and new solutions were not coming easily. We spent endless days baking on our dusty front lawn, a lazy sprinkler squirting us with tepid tap water, the sun bleaching our minds and our morale. The womxn that I lived with formed an impromptu cooperative style of living, equally splitting the household labor, taking shifts for communal dinners, and cultivating a healing space within our walls: a rare and nurturing microcosm juxtaposed with a world that was often too terrifying to look directly in the eyes.

Photo by British Library on Unsplash

Writer in process. Cowgirl at heart. Texan currently transplanted in Madrid, Spain.

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