Snow has come. My work season is over. It started with a bang and ended poetically; with a whimper. I made $23,000 this year, $22,792.32 to be precise. It’s been a rough year.

For everyone.

The US has a workforce of around 150,000,000 people. More than 48,000,000 of them, or roughly 1/3, are currently unemployed.

43,000,000 Americans are facing eviction. That’s over 12,000,000 households. 30% of all renters.

8,000,000+ Americans have been infected with COVID-19. Of them, more than 219,000 have died. Most of those deaths are of men. In fact, men are 2.4 times more likely to die from COVID-19 than women.

I am a soon-to-be 57-year-old male. I smoke cigarettes. I currently live in a state with the second-highest COVID reproduction rate in the US. It seemed inevitable that I would get infected and, as far as I know, I did. I didn’t bother getting tested. I didn’t see a reason to. I self-quarantined from the second I suspected and watched it closely. Either I’d get horribly sick and need a hospital or I wouldn’t.

I didn’t get horribly sick. In fact, I got over it quickly, though only time will tell what sort of long term effects, if any, it has.

I don’t pay rent. Housing is one of the benefits of my job. I leave my things here when I snowbird back to Alabama in the winter. Today my employer told me “You are welcome to stay as long as you want, work or not.” He meant it.

So when I tell you that I am grateful I made $22,792.32 this year I want you to know I’m serious.

I am grateful.

Image by Max Duzij

Published by J M Greff

J M Greff is the rambling author, trucker philosopher, peace loving hippie, spiritual warrior, backpacking pantheist, wandering minstrel, and poet fool who created A Caravan of One for you. View all posts by J M Greff