Remind me to come back from a worldwide pandemic, alive and mostly whole. Remind me to come into my body again, feel something, be present. Remind me to move again. Remind me I’m dying every day and this is my one wild and precious life. Remind me to call somebody. Anybody. Remind me I’m not alone in this. Remind me that not-writing feels like erosion, but somehow insidious and lethal. Remind me to write a short story each week, publish it on Saturday, just to have a place to work.
Remind me to come back.