In the past, my need
to fill the page whenever tragedy struck either close to home or in distant
locations meant my thoughts on everything turned up in my blog. Then the
January 6th attack on the United States Capitol broke something in
me. COVID-19 exploded in the homes of both family and friends, and I only
recorded its impact in my personal journal, with no desire to blog again. The
vital lifeline blogging provided during Mom’s endless battle with Huntington’s
disease became less necessary. I didn’t feel the need to write about the
troubles that everyone around me also experienced firsthand.
On February 24th,
Russia began a brutal attack on Ukraine. I retreated into books and spent
massive hours raking leaves and hauling rocks from our back yard to the front.
Our television sets normally remain silent during the day, and my preference to
read the news over seeing and hearing it means usually our home runs silent for
the majority of each day. Yet, this today the news drives my morning, as it
has daily since the war began.
Helplessness accompanies
me as I toil in my yards. Spring’s promise of rebirth hides under the leaves.
As I clear each area, green draws my eyes to life’s eternal potential. I
treasure my safe shelter.
Escaping war news
Hauling rocks, raking leaves
Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
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