Perhaps Why Covid

This year's unexpected visit from Covid 19 caused several reactions, both equally painful and realistic.

Physically, it made me aware of my limitations, not only due to age, but also, lack of certain crucial survival skills.

Emotionally, I have had to painfully acknowledge that the ferry will arrive at some point in time for one and all who inhabit our magnificent earth.

While the unwelcome visitor lingered and lurked, I also had ample time to think about my inevitable departure and what legacy I would leave behind.

Of course, that was relatively easy since I have no viable estate. My income will die with me and the few items of worth I once treasured have been shared with those who cared.

And I realize my only legacy will be the words that carry my byline. Of course, that alone falls into the category of a miracle since it was when I first reinserted the maiden name Donlon. It was in 1984 when the NYT was about to publish my story about “The Magician,” my Dad.

Although Bill Donlon had departed from this earth several decades earlier, I knew my gentle Father was the reason I wrote, and he deserved to be always remembered. So it was from then on I became Anne Donlon Achenbach whose writing was not only compulsive, but also, surprisingly frequently published.

When my inevitable voyage begins, those words will remain for those who were part of my life and gave me joy. The words, sadly, have not always been kind nor careful, and often remained unread and rebuffed.

But for all I loved as well as those who once loved me, they have permitted me tell a story of a life filled with many unrecorded miracles.

And perhaps that is why Covid made its visit to teach me to remember that.