Lowlight

It's a moment that I want to capture, although I'm not exactly sure why. Elena and Salem have covid. I escaped it somehow, and I'm just picking up things around the house. My mom stopped by to drop off some fruit, and she told me through a crack in the door, "this isn't our year." Today was supposed to be our first Black family Christmas party in many years, and we were all looking forward to it. Salem was going to meet Santa and all that. Our family has felt a number of heavy loses as well. It would have been nice to end the year on a positive not for us.

I'm not sick, at least not yet (knocks on wood). This passing of this illness just pulls us deeper into our isolation, one that has already begun early this year. And, everyone is so busy these days. I miss my friends and now my family too. Perhaps this is fueling whatever it is that is emerging from within me a deep desire to get back into the travel world, but I'm not even sure where to begin now. 

(*note: I have been staring at maps again. That is usually the first sign of wanderlust, at least in myself.)

Maybe I'm being selfish. It's not my time to think about my needs. I love that about being a father. Becoming Salem's dad has provided me with things I never knew I needed. I can't really explain that right now. Now that he has a few years below him acting as a solid foundation, I feel that the time has come for him to see something far away, and I have to make sure I'm not searching with only my interests in mind but also his. 

I knew this journey into the forest would be a long and slow one, but I'm already beginning to see the trees surrounding me. I know this is just an analogy, yet it's very real to me. 

I'm worried about mom. I worry about a lot of things, but she's on the top of my list. This winter is going to be a hard one, so I write this in hopes of health and inspiration. I know this is all part of the transitional process. 

I wonder what journeys await our endurance through these months of lowlight.