Breath

Sometimes we write in the heat of the moment. Better still, we reflect, breathe, and tell the story in retrospect. 

The memoir of Rachel Clarke on the first wave of the coronavirus pandemic, Breathtaking, weaves interviews with patients, families, and colleagues. That’s an account of what happened during the crisis. Clarke writes after recovery, and not in the midst of the tsunami. At that time, we could barely breathe, let alone write. 

The strict social distancing in awkward estrangement is so hard to explain, but Clarke finds ways to remind us the tough life. I like the way she pictures ourselves shuffle and jostle like identically poled magnets, each repelling the other. 

Challenging ourselves to break the magnetic field is a nightmare we can’t forget.