I can't remember a time when more than one family member went through some sort of medical or emotional crisis within two or three short weeks. It happened this month. It was beginning to feel like we should be dabbing lambs' blood on the front door to have the wrath of God pass over.
It was impractical to consider writing. Things happened too fast. I'm sure that other writers have faced this sort of thing, but have never experienced it for myself until October. My respect for these colleagues has grown immensely.
I noted that my escape has been through writing. When that is not possible, my belly is exposed to the arrows slung by the circumstances at hand. Oh wait, I suddenly remember that someone else is watching over me and everyone else.
How easy I forget sometimes.