August has always been a gathering time in Vermont, and I looked forward to visits with friends and family in my new home. When waking on August 1, I was optimistic about the days ahead and paid little attention to Grace’s whisper of “August Angst” in my morning meditation.
We’ve had little respite from rain in Vermont, even as wildfires ravage the west and the beautiful island of Maui. The national political news is as toxic as mold in our basements and ashes in the air we share. I cherish each hopeful story I hear and every meaningful connection I make virtually and in person.
When the morning news headlines consisted of another Trump indictment and a COVID summer serge, I turned my attention to positive possibilities. My sister and I celebrated her birthday. Friends from Maine, Vermont, and Virginia came for visits. I attended two Circles of Remembrance here at Wake Robin for women I knew years ago. The stories told brought tears, laughter, and generous hugs.
I had more than my normal difficulty sleeping one night, as I started sneezing and coughing. Air quality has been poor this summer, so I tried to not jump to any conclusions. When I woke up on August 11, my throat was scratchy, my head stuffy, and my cough felt and sounded deeper. I took a COVID test before breakfast. It was positive.
August angst had arrived for an in-person visit.
I called Wake Robin’s Wellness Center at 9:00 that morning, and Paxlovid was delivered to my door at 10:30. My first five days of relational respite were spent in isolation with low-dose news. Wake Robin Security delivered a meal daily and my mail three times a week. A mask is required for another five days—no eating in the Community Center Dining Room. My email bounces between contact tracing and connecting.
Recovery is a good time for reflection. Jane Ferguson’s new book, No Ordinary Assignment, kept me company for COVID. She writes, “To inspire people, little girls in particular, is to leave a kind of magic behind in this world, a wondrous, immeasurable bundle of possibilities.”
Jane’s courage as a journalist and her empathy for the victims of war breaks my heart open. She concludes the Epilogue with this:
“The truth needs no defense, and those who pursue it doggedly, with humility and grace, may not have the most glamourous careers in the business, but they will do the most good. To those who do, I wish you a brilliant, defiant, and most unordinary life.”
Now, I can watch the evening news.