It’s noticeable. Dawn comes earlier and dusk, later. We’re on the other side of the recent cold snap , tiptoeing ever closer to spring. There’s still a ways to go, and spring fever hasn’t kicked in yet, but there’s a sense of coming through that’s undeniable.
Meanwhile, we’re still jigsaw-ing and enjoying multiple daily chess games. I win a respectable number of matches these days—testimony to perseverance and a desire to, if not master, at least improve my chess playing skill.
I’m hungry to wrap my arms around my granddaughter. It’s been six months—that’s longer than we’ve ever gone without seeing one another. Recent photos our daughter shared confirm that she’s grown and changed. Life’s too short for this.
The low-grade hum of world events still grates, but I’m learning to limit exposure and tune it out in favour of the better thing. The edifying and uplifting thing. The voice of truth and love.
Writing? Not so much. Watercolour painting? More so, but just dabbling. Reading? Always. Somehow days pass by, the necessary things get done, and we rinse and repeat and repeat and repeat.
I lean in to established routine. I create new routines. I ignore other routines in favour of moment by moment. Every day, one foot in front of the other, eyes open for magic. It’s the best I can do.
Deer tracks in the yard.
A subtle pink in the morning sky.
The glitter of sunshine on fresh snow.
Joy sparkers. They’re there if we look for them. Even now.
It’s been 346 days since the World Health Organization declared COVID-19 a global pandemic and so much has changed.
But not everything. No where near everything.