I’m standing on the beach at Kaneohe Air Station.  I’m 9. The wind blows my hair, and the sun has warmed the smooth lava beneath my feet. The sky is blue but also filled with clouds and the ever-present Hawaiian rainbow. The tidepools are full after the liquid sunshine that we called the short rains of a typical Hawaiian day. I am alone and reveling in my newfound freedom. I am allowed to roam. And I do. I pick my way…

Down the aisle of the school bus. He is sitting on the back bench. I think he is saving a seat for me. We will hold sweaty hands too shy to look at one another…

I look up and see my first love ambling down the street carrying a large heart-shaped box of Whitman chocolates. I scramble down the apple tree and race to him, engulfing and engulfed in a hug as expansive as…

The back pasture of a farm in East Lynn. The hay is green, and the Appalachian sky is crystalline it’s so clear. Again, I am alone. I am free to roam, but my life allows so few alone times that I relish them. The daisies, nearly three feet tall, are blooming. I have a paper due but I’m in love with…

The passion of my life. We stand on the pier at Okauchee Lake. He towers over me. His piercing blue eyes soft for once and the cold night whipping his dark hair around. He leans down to kiss me after I say yes and his beard scratches my face, but I love it. I love him, but we don’t marry. Fate intervenes and…

I’m on the back of a motorcycle. My hair streams behind me and we tour the Mississippi River. My arms around his waist, my chin perched on his shoulder. I try to kiss his neck, but my helmet gets in the way…

They’ve given up adjusting the excessive train of my dress. My father and I standing in the vestibule of St. Anne’s.  It’s just he and I now. He looks at me, the man I first adored, and asks me, “Is this what you want?”…

I say, “I do.” The music begins and I walk…

To the McDonald’s across from St Joseph’s Hospital in Milwaukee. I have on my bathrobe and house shoes. I gave birth to the love of my life seven hours ago and I am enjoying my first cup of coffee in months.  I am surrounded by people, but alone. Beaming. My 4 lb. 4 oz miracle of technology and medicine is going to be okay after weeks of fear. It is going to be okay, and I sip…

My coffee in the kitchen garden outside our barn in West Virginia. My five-year old is racing up and down the hillside with his father in a homemade cart. The hollyhocks bloomed just in time for his birthday, and I’ve hung a fuchsia from the branch of the large oak tree – the purple and pink blossoms bob in the wind attracting hummingbirds. I am not alone, but I sit quietly and watch them. My son shrieks with glee…

And I shriek when he comes down the stairs in his tux. Cotillion, 6^th grade. I am blaring Sharp Dressed Man on the stereo. He is concerned they will make fun of him. I assure him they will not. He is nervous about dancing. I assure him he will be fine. He hugs me as we head out the door. Perhaps the last willing hug before the teenage years turn him into the strong, silent type. Out the door we go…

And then I am at the Greenbrier after the divorce. My son is in full Chef regalia and is cooking in the open-concept kitchen. I watch him prepare my fish. He is pursuing his life’s dream. He hands me the plate and…

We scattered my partner’s ashes in Chaco Canyon. His daughter and me. On the cliff where years before he and she sat together admiring the view. She is orphaned now and…

I am the sole member of my son’s family at his small wedding. He comes down the stairs in his tux over and over again, we are trying to recreate his Cotillion photo. It is a dream of a wedding. The Spanish sunset is still warm, but the ocean breeze keeps us comfortable. The bride makes us gasp. Later, he and I dance. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me.” He tears up and so do I when…

I am alone when the Health Department gives me the results. I call my doctor. No answer. It’s a mild case. But Covid. My lover gives me a pulse oximeter. He is worried. It is perhaps the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever been given. The measure of my heartbeat and my breath and then it is over…

But it’s not. I am walking up my stairs, doubled over, panting, can’t catch my breath…. heart pounding…scared…stumble to the bed. Call the doctor. So tired. Can’t think. Can’t breathe. They call it Long COVID or Post Covid Conditions. They don’t know why some of us have symptoms after the initial illness. I am not contagious, but I am not well. I can’t walk but a few feet. I have a headache for months. I have brain fog and confusion–for years. I am sad, anxious, and depressed…

And then Julien is born. My heart is so full it spills over when I am in Chicago holding him for the first time. I tear up with joy. To have the love of my life, twice. How’d I get so lucky?

I still have Long COVID, but I have Julien and my son and my lover. There are good days. There are bad days and…

The wheel turns.