Dear Maria, I know you are somewhere in the middle of India, but I don’t know where, and there is no way to reach you or hear from you until Monday. It finally feels like you are far, far away.

I don’t know if you saw my blog but these are the flowers you sent me that came Monday with a note that read “A flower for everyday I’ll miss you.” Think you, they brighten my day.

I am writing this because I imagine you will see my blog before we talk Monday or Tuesday, I am sitting at my desk writing on your six year-old vintage laptop, the one you retired a couple of months ago. Good thing it is still here. I was going to go the movies tonight to see “La La Land,” again (I saw the Batman Lego movie last night), but I was tired from cleaning out the chicken coop and doing the afternoon chores and teaching this morning

The class was a remarkable one, I asked everyone to talk about how Donald Trump and the political dramas were affecting their creativity, and it was striking to see how much this man has impacted the lives of my students, the lives of every single one was altered and different. He is the talk of the country.

For better or worse, he is changing the country and the way we look at it, I regret his angry and narcissistic manner, it will do him no good in the long run, even if his ideas are deserving. Too many people are frightened of him for his work to be good or for him to succeed. I fear for the people who put their faith in him.

One of my students, an Evangelist,  started writing  beautiful poems of compassion and feeling after the election, another has stopped writing to work on community activism, another is working with refugees, another is deeply worried about her son and his Asian girlfriend, who fears going outside alone, even in Vermont.

I talked about my own deepening involvement with newly arriving refugees, and my desire to live by example, rather than argument.

I am touched to see how much we all love America and wish to preserve the best of it. We will all work hard to do that, I saw it today.

There was so much  feeling in the room we agreed to begin our classes talking about how these political changes are affecting our creativity and emotions. It was affirming and comforting, turmoil and concern often spark creativity and creative change. It is a  teaching opportunity and also a way to support one another. Some of my students are feeling the deepest anguish, and most of them are not political people in any way.

I see we are connected to one another, I am proud of that.  Creativity is a powerful weapon, in the right hands.

My computer repair station says they believe they have fixed my computer, and believe they are working successfully to back it up and restore my words and images and data. They think it will be ready Monday morning, that would be great. I am wary.

In the meantime, I am celebrating a day or two of reflection, quiet and some meditation.

Days without you are quiet and busy, but I think of you often, or actually, always. You are a radiant presence here. Nothing can replace you.

You are never far from my thoughts, and I am excited beyond words at your beautiful words and images from India. Since you are there, you can’t imagine the impact they are having.  Cassandra is doing a great job and Scott calls every day to make sure I am alive and well.

Everyone is talking about you and your trip.

So many good people are taking this journey with you,  you did good, your reports are powerful and beautiful. I know you are offline for a couple of days, but I imagine you will be blogging late Sunday if I read your schedule right.

I am grateful to be able to blog, you and I always seem to get our message out, one way or the other. I guess that makes me a blowhard.

I do miss you, expectedly and appropriately, and much of the time. With you gone, I am busy, all day. There is so much to do here. Tomorrow I water the plants, do a laundry, maybe sleep a little late. Cassandra is not coming on Sundays, it’s her day off.  I cleaned up the chicken coop – yuk, it is spit-spot.

I will blog tomorrow. And I want to confess something, I am spending the night with another woman I love. She is Alison Krauss. Her new album, “Windy City,” is her first solo album in 18 years and the critics are gushing all over it. I don’t need the critics, I love everything she does, and we will spend a quiet night  together with my big earphones on,  two dogs at my feet, two barn cats dozing nearby, and a roaring fire.

I have not yet gotten to work on my book, I had to dig out of the blizzard,  bring the external drive to the repair place for the back-up. I hope it’s all there, the drive was not functioning properly. Eeeek!

People are, as usual, sending me odd messages pointing out that there is a cloud, and that computers can be backed up. As always, and as someone who has been writing online for more than 30 years, I wonder why anyone would think I don’t know that.

I think people just want to do good, which is nice, and I ought not forget it.

But I think I must appear clueless sometimes. And I am clueless sometimes, when I look back on my life, you have often pointed this out to me.

But I am clear about you, my best move in life. Eight days until I see you again. I love and admire you more and more each day, can love like this just grow and grow? So far yes.

I hope you are having the wonderful experience you deserve. Talk to you soon.

Left Behind Jon