I sit at my desk, in my dark office, surrounded by faces of family members and loved ones. Pictures, tokens, and anything that reminds me of those who are not with me engulf my space. I truthfully don't know if this makes being in my office easier or harder. Certainly, I love thinking about games, laughter, and stories from other places but I also need to be awake to the emerging stories that are happening here which doesn't happen when you are living in the past. I don't know why I am also being resistant to some of the work I need to do. I enjoy my research, I tell myself often. I like my participants and thinking about their lives. I like writing and finding beautiful words to describe the indescribable. And yet, I am unable to, in that moment, do the work that I love. Somehow it does emerge and words and pages are formed but I do not yet know how it happens when I so clearly refuse to work. Despite this feeling, I show up at my office everyday. I sit at my desk