Learning to Make Fire

I last finished an essay before Christmas, 2022, and I don’t think I captured what I wanted to say about the current moment we’re all living in. I wanted to write about how I emerged from the rubble of lockdown and personal crisis and felt certain aspects of my old life chafing. I wanted to write about how precious life feels right now without ignoring the reality of struggle and grief. 

When I went home for the holidays, I was reminded of how human connection transcends tragedy and weariness. I found joy in watching my dad play Christmas carols on the accordion for his grandsons. I helped my future in-laws prepare their home to host six Venezuelan refugees released from ICE detention with nowhere to go. By the time the group arrived, mattresses had been set up, groceries delivered, and the long dining room table covered with donated winter clothes. 

The five men and one woman greeted us shyly but excitedly in Spanish. The translator asked them to share their stories. We heard about the…