Nothing during and coming out of this pandemic had stayed the same. Nor can it. Nor should it, necessarily. One thing that has changed for me, besides my level of cynacism, is my writing time and writing style. 

Like clockwork, everyday for more than five years, I always set my posts for 7am. I would wake up early and write per writing prompts. I would also write about the wackiness in the non-profit world. Then I started to write about grief, my mom and life in general. Started dabbling in poetry in honor of my mom.

During the pandemic, I was crazy busy. My writing became erratic. I started losing my consistency. I could no longer do 7am posts. I was awake but dealing with early-morning crises. Writing became a thing I tried to squeeze in as opposed to what I just routinely did. Sadness. Anger. Even the need to vent didn’t breakthrough and pierce my writing inertia.

Today I am back to my routine. Normalcy. Tomorrow maybe I’ll write ay midnight. No consistency.