My husband and I celebrate our 38th wedding anniversary today, and acknowledge our 42 years of being “an item.”

Between my three month hospitalization and nine month recovery, and our three month self-imposed quarantine during the Coronavirus pandemic, the two of us have spent more time together in the past year than in any of our previous 41. We each feel grateful to be able to count on such good company.

We didn’t get each other cards, which would involve going into a store — delegating such a purchase to Shipt simply doesn’t strike the right note. Instead, I gathered onto a frame old cards we’ve made and bought and notes we’ve left for each other and photos from many of the past 38 years.

My husband put his sentiments on canvas.

We won’t be going out for dinner. We have been in quarantine since mid-March and won’t be back in restaurants and stores any time soon. Florida is among the states leading in Coronavirus infections and mask usage is sporadic. Nope, staying home works very well for us.

We are each involved in channeling our feelings into creative pursuits. In addition to exploring canvas art, my husband is releasing the potential of palm leaves.

I am back into writing mode after a little set-back. Having completed a final (careful when you say that, writers!) draft of my coming-of-age memoir set in the Foreign Service, I thought I needed to turn my focus to the story of this past year, working title of SURVIVING AMSTERDAM. After all, I had already sketched this tail out in this blog, here and here and here.

They say the devil is in the details. Indeed, I had underestimated the impact of learning exactly what happened to me last year in Amsterdam. Not bleeding out from the ruptured aneurysm was only one dramatic turning point in a story of much more trauma drama. This realization startled me on an intellectual level — “HOW long was I untubated!?¨— and distressed my subconscious, yanking me out of the sleep, exercise, and healthy food routines that had anchored my recovery.

Thank goodness for my husband, and our daughter, and my sister, who each had played a critical role in my Amsterdam story. Now, they helped me back off the deep dive. Indeed, I found I needed to NOT write about anything for a while. Instead, I painted furniture, converted household fabric into masks, and spruced up my study.

With my mother’s rocking chair awaiting me, I am back to (really, now) final edits in the Foreign Service book. My next steps will be the topic of a future post.

Be well, practice social distancing, and wear your mask!