I go through phases in which writing is really difficult.

During periods of personal growth, I don’t yet have perspective on what I’m experiencing, so it’s hard to write about that.

At the same time, the changes I’m going through cause me to question what I thought I knew, so it’s hard to write about that.

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I look forward to the next time I get to play drums in a band.

I’m not sure when it will happen. Of the drum sets I own, only one is local and it’s been appropriated by the leader of a local steel band (whom I happen to be married to). The floor tom sits in the closet, while the rest of the pieces live on the campus of a nearby school.

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Whatever hard times I may go through in life, I will never forget the spring of 2020.

Not only did I face massive upheaval in my professional life and social life just like everyone else, I was one of those who migrated.

When I got the questionnaire for the 2020 Census, I didn’t know what to put. My permanent residence was in Atlanta, but we were renting an apartment in Maine. But we weren’t there — we were staying with my parents two hours away.

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When my little cousin went to preschool for the first time, she had a wonderful experience.

Nevertheless, as she was leaving at the end of the day, she said loudly to her mother, “I didn’t learn anything.”

Hopefully, that made her teachers (and the school director) laugh. Regardless of what the child’s expectations were, she definitely learned something.

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Finally, the house is clean and tidy.

It’s been a long process. We had our floors refinished back in January, so we had to essentially move all of our belongings out of our house right after Christmas.

And then we had some new furniture delivered.

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