Reading this brought me close to tears. The social isolation and touch starvation are gradually wearing me down, making me feel my age, and pushing me near the edge of depression.

I left Winston-Salem, where I had family and many many friends, and moved 900 miles away to pursue my MFA in Creative Writing. I could probably have gotten into one of the lo-residency programs, but I wanted to be part of a community.

And I got that for 3 1/2 semesters. Seminars and workshops, undergrad teaching, concerts, potlucks, student organizations, chorus, staff meetings for the lit mag, and friendships with random people like you meet at any university.

Now the only class I actually attend is about to go online. Most of the students I teach attend online (and being freshmen don't turn on their cameras or mics). The chorus is socially distanced. And the big house I rented and decorated for entertaining never gets a visitor.

This is not the way that we were meant to live.

Retired psychologist, wordsmith, teacher, MFA candidate. Buy me coffee: ko-fi.com/edrobson. ecrobson@gmail.com

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