A story of grief, sewing, and surviving a pandemic.

In the 3rd week of March, when it became certain the Coronavirus crisis was here and it was real, I felt the early pangs of anxiety making their presence known at the hem of my consciousness. There was a thread of agitation running through me — unease, restlessness, fear. Nothing crippling; it was just there. I was afraid that if I actually voiced my fears, they’d become more real and trying to avoid that, I leaped into a flurry of activity. Literally overnight, I set up a podcast about coping with self-isolation, I baked an orange Bundt cake, I prepped…