I too find myself living in an age of anxiety. Tolkien worried that the Nazis would drop a bomb on him before his work was done. I “doomscroll” my national, state, and local COVID numbers daily.
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My mother loved the sound of the sea. Listening to its rhythm subdued memories that shifted in her heart and soothed pain she carried in the present. There weren’t many books on our shelves at home but there were bits of the sea: sand dollars, bleached white in the sun, starfish and coral with their neon colors and iridescent abalone, mementos from childhood vacations.
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Walking out in the bold noonday light
after these million years of cold and sullen darkness,
after nightmares, this world—the thing itself—
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These are strange days, the likes of which we’ve never seen. We’ve been overwhelmed by the hot takes, the long reads and think pieces…even the best ones.
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