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Oh fuck it. I’m devastated. I cry at the kindnesses, I wish compassion were just as contagious as COVID19. I feel like one foot is nailed to the floor. Spinning in place. I sprained my right ankle two weeks ago, and cannot drive, but then again, where would I go? We talk about the ripple effect of one shuttered business. It’s like I threw a pebble in a pond, and it caused tsunamis. Neighborhood tsunamis, families blasted out of financial security. Tires are being slashed at the beaches. Because the tourists, enamored of cheap fares, arrived expecting sunbathing. Because Hawaii has always been overrun by greed. And I don’t want to think the stay at home order was stayed until after Spring Break because, greed. I am finishing off the low shelf wine. Every day. Because, numbing. Because the magic is gone. Because this fear is so pervasive. I sleep late because when I get up, the world caves in. I am submitting writing via Submittable. I am gathering up rejections. I convince myself that is progress. But really, how good I have it makes me feel guilty. Everyone’s doing ok. Just ok. I look back to December, when the cousins came to stay, and we went out for Chinese food, because that’s what Jewish people always do on Christmas. That’s the first time I ever did that. The family I used to have is either dead or dead to me. Family can be chosen, so I choose my wonderful cousins. And my beloved friends. Some blood kin are acceptable, others are poison. So dim sum next December 25th.