The world has come to a halt and I'm sitting here thinking about tomorrow. Maybe not about the immediate tomorrow, but the tomorrow that is close enough not to feel too far away.
I made a promise to my goddaughter that I would be home to visit with her when I got home from Arizona in March. Then the new nemesis arrived, and I won't be the one to bring it to her.
I made a promise to myself last fall to go to Katahdin to meet with the medicinal plants I made friends with when I was there with my medicine group, to capture their beauty when they are in full bloom. Now I'm not sure the park will let me in.
I made plans to attend the Abbe Museum Indian Market to sell my work, but the market was cancelled due to the nemesis so now I think I'll go fiddle-heading.
I think I might move next month. My apartment is too expensive and it would be nice to live somewhere that has a back porch and better internet connection.
Those are all far-tomorrows.. I'm concerned with the near-tomorrow. I'm working from home; my whole organization has been sheltering in place since mid-March. How is it that I feel so much busier after this all started than I did before? I was already busy. How do you fit so much more busy into a small space? In the near-tomorrow, I'm ordering stickers for bottles we'll be using to teach Wabanaki people how to make their own hand sanitizer, designing a new Facebook cover page for a private group for Wabanaki people in recovery to connect and stay sober, budgeting for our website, budgeting for someone else's website, budgeting for phone recording equipment for most of our staff, budgeting for project management software for myself and the new person being added to my department (whenever that happens), creating a work plan for me and the new staff person, creating a newsletter of resources for fighting the nemesis, creating one-pagers for communities to distribute with information about the nemesis, writing the first gratitude in a bag of gratitude journals we're handing out to the Penobscot Nation, writing a paper, writing creative responses, creating linocuts, making baskets, making beadwork, making jewelry, updating this website, posting my adventures on social media, ordering shipping materials, creating videos, creating graphics, making dinner, taking a new headshot, and buying toilet paper. Why is it that when the world stops it happens to you all at once? I really wish the near-tomorrows were a lot longer.