Adventures in Aging: Death is Wonderfully Renewing

Photo by Cristian Newman on Unsplash

Last night, on the verge of getting uprooted in a vortex of worry, I reach for the Indica gummy that the sweet young man at the Cannabis store recommended for sleep. Instead, it propels me out of bed with an urgency to return to the teats of Mother Language. If I can write about it, however poorly, I am well, I think. But I am not allowed that relief. My left forearm is spasming and the mind is twisted…