I woke up to a text from my kiddo saying two of the residents of her island miss me. She wants me to come back and play. Ugh. That's all I want, too. But work beckons. I need an income, especially now that I'm coming to the end of my disability pay.

"Work" means teaching, writing and applying for jobs. I have an application for content writing to complete this morning. Then I need to scour the web for other remote jobs I can work until this pandemic is ended. Here's my issue: I don't want a job! I want to be my own boss. But I don't have enough students per session yet to quit my main gig as a Starbucks shift supervisor.

Honestly, I miss Starbucks. It's a good job. If my body were more cooperative, I think I would keep up my focus on moving up the ladder. Right now, though, I want to get online and fly over to my daughter's island, pick all the pears and talk to her neighbors. She loves playing hide-and-seek. Me, not so much, but she's seven and it's a cute way for us to spend time together while we are, once again, quarantined apart.

June 17th is my surgery date. I might get my life back! I'm so hopeful. If nothing else, this time has taught me what work I value. Now, if I could just get that freelance piece up, I can log on to Animal Crossing with my babe.

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I teach blogging, expressive writing for traumatic release and recovery and host generative writing sessions at the Center for Creative Writing. Write with me!