I want

I want a big red car
I want fancy new guitar
I want a house with a big back deck
And I want to come home with a big paycheck

I want to not be so tired at the end of the day. I used to put dishes in the dishwasher and wipe down the kitchen at night before I went to bed; now I just sort of stare at piles and sigh, and hope that tomorrow I’ll have time and energy at the same time to do it. I want to have the energy to putter around and do things like fold laundry or straighten up the house a little, at the end of the day.

When Tim was alive we’d watch TV from dinner to whenever I went to bed. I didn’t do things like that then – the things I said above are things I did when I was single, earlier in my life, or since Tim died. But now I’m just so done at the end of the day I’m lucky if I’m not just laying on the couch with the dogs and staring at the ceiling.

How long does it take to recover from extended grief/PTSD/Septicemia/Covid/Long Covid? Could it be now? Now? Soon?

I want be a star
I want to be of age to get into bars
I want to ride a Harley Davidson
And I want to live in a great big mansion

I want to be able to walk around England the way I walked around Ireland. I was thinking of some of the walks Hawk and I took in Ireland, and… I couldn’t do that, now. There was one day I clocked in like 20,000 steps, at least. Now if I get 6000 steps I’m wrecked at the end of the day. I want to get my enthusiasm for my travels back, the way I was so excited when I first started planning. Ireland had a few issues but overall the travel was amazing. Scotland was exhausting, and five weeks was too long. Now I’m going for three weeks in England and I’m not looking forward to it as much as I wish I was. Maybe that’ll change once I’m on the plane, but right now I’m just sad and bitter that I had to cancel my city-hopping and tours, the way I did Ireland and Scotland, because I just don’t think I can push myself that hard. Shit, I’m already worried about getting around the Atlanta airport!  There were so many things I wanted to do in England, and I’m not going to be doing half of them. Go again in another year or two, I can hear you saying. To that I say, how do I know my health is going to get better? We don’t know enough about Long Covid to say “oh, it’s got a five year recovery rate” or something like that. What if this is the best I’ll be for the next thirty years? Well, then I would have to at least go back to Ireland so I could get a Shillelagh to shake at people in a threatening manner.

I want to sleep for hours and hours
I want a garden full of beautiful sunflowers
I want to vote to be seen
And I want to be friends with Tom Petty

I want to not be afraid of what might happen in this country after the election. I want to understand why one side is accusing the other side of things they themselves are doing, and because of it, poll workers are being intimidated and ballot boxes are being set on fire. And not by the side that’s being accused of what they’re not doing! I was reading this weekend that there is a plan, both for safety and for damage control when the person we hope loses claims the election was rigged (with no more proof than last time, Jesus Christ what a sore loser!). I want to see divisions healed, wrongs righted, things get to a new and safer normal with civility and compassion. I want to have more faith in people, in institutions, in the ability for justice to prevail. I want to not think those things are never going to happen.

I want to not feel like I’m an asshole for being glad I don’t have to tiptoe around Tim during this election. He was so mad that I wouldn’t see the light and become a Republican. He didn’t think Trump was good Presidential material, but he felt like he had to vote for him because he was a Republican and you have to tow the party line. I don’t know that, if I knew he was voting for him this time, that I could keep my mouth shut. To be clear: I am not and never will be glad my husband died. He and I had issues but neither one of us is, was, is perfect. Maybe we could have worked through things, maybe not. But his beliefs were his and I’m not going to shit on them even if they’re not mine, even when he’s not here to explain his side. But I am glad that I don’t have to relive the tension in this house that was here in 2016, and again in 2020. I don’t think we even ever talked about January 6th – I wanted to stay, and chose to stay, ignorant of his feelings surrounding it.

I want someone to grant my wishes
I want a boy who’ll blow me kisses
I want a friend that I can care for
And I want to find a love that’s not so painful

— Dayna Manning, I Want

I want to meet my friends for bagels with my puppies on Sunday mornings. I want to go out to dinner at restaurants where the food is safe for me. I want to go to a theater and see a good movie. I want to just sit around with friends and talk. About books, about movies, about art, and for politics and social division to be the last things on our minds. I want to have the energy to even HAVE a social life! I want to write captivating fiction. I want to make ceramics that people love, and love to give to the people they love. I want to dye yarn that people work up into amazing creations. I want my friends to feel safe around me and I want to amplify voices that are even more marginalized than mine. I want to watch sunrises and listen to birds as my dogs play kissy bitey face in the back yard. I want a vegetable garden and a clean pond and a little place to leave peanuts for the crows so they’ll be my friends. I want to live my best wood witch/bog hag life, and help the people I love live their best lives.

But mostly, right at this second, I want to go to sleep.

xoxo y’all