Five Years a Writer

I want to edit the world. Take my blue pencil, strike out February 24, 2022, put a line through Moscow and Putin, emphasize Ukraine in BOLD ALL CAPS, give it its own page, its own boundaries, insert ‘free from’ in front of invasion, replace tanks and guns with ‘flowers and cakes’, and edit out death altogether.  I want the world to be other than it is. I want big countries to make smaller footprints. I want the sun to warm not burn, the waters to refresh not drown, the air to be pure not polluted. I want babies to be loved, women to be honoured, men to be decent, all genders respected. I want to edit the world so power becomes peace and destruction becomes love. As the world — that I cannot edit — watches and marks one year this coming Friday — February 24 — since Putin invaded Ukraine, I am reminded that life is hard and harsh and horrid for so many. And, indeed, more so than any human should have to bear. When I wrote A List for Leaving  last March , I was naive believing that sent