Writing Pieces

Fragile

By April 7, 20203 Comments

I feel fragile.

Fragile

Not a complimentary word.

Women for centuries have been accused of being fragile.

Having vapors.  Waiting for the guy on the white horse.  Needing to be kissed awake after eating the dreaded apple.

But I’m ok with it.

I’m fragile.

I feel like I’m in a war against death.

Looking over my shoulder to see if that big rock from Raiders is coming to run me over.

And it is.

This is a horrible time.  Horrible virus.  Killing a huge number of those it infects.  With wild abandon.

You can’t buy your way out of it.  You can’t call that one important contact to come and save you. You can’t use your youth or your maturity to make it better. You can’t escape to another country.

It doesn’t matter if you’re red, blue, black, or white.  You’re fucked.

So I’m fragile.

I’m in the over sixty, elderly, category.  I had long planned to live to be well over 100.

In my mind, I’m in the middle of my life.

I have a young daughter.  Young grandchildren. Building my writing career. Playing with my husband.  Forever dieting.  Making mistakes.  Building a house.  Planning trips.  Cleaning my closet.  Loving my friends. Learning to cook.  Not feeling guilty.

I am not ready to die.

So, yes, I am fragile.

Join the discussion 3 Comments

  • Anita says:

    Oh Mary, you have captured how so many of us feel. This is a tough time. But even tho we may feel fragile we are tough! We will not let this virus be the reason we succumb. We will live well into our 90’s. We will. With joy and laughter and love.

  • I so understand. This is the FIRST time I have wished fervently to be twenty years younger. Young enough to volunteer at the food bank. Young enough to be viable and of use. To compensate I am sewing masks, donating money, participating in a small working group to chart best practices to open our glorious trails and lands in Sonoma County we are all forbidden to use, regardless of age. And yes, like the loss of my first child, this is something no one can make go away, no one can do over, and this time, it is looming worldwide. The empathy is equal to the fear at this time, I breathe as deep as I can as though it will help those struggling to breathe.

  • Barbara Newman says:

    I am not ready to die, either. So when you step over the last of the snow banks and come back East, let’s dance, eat chocolate (to hell with the diet,) drink wine, laugh, and live!!! Xoxoxo

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