Another Monday in COVID time and we’re all still holding our breath a little—or a lot, depending on the hour or the day. It’s the last one in July and how in the world did we get here already? How’r you holding up? In other times (BP: before the pandemic), when someone we knew was
Sometime during the night Gerry opens the door leading from our bedroom to the deck. Thanks to the cedars he removed a few weeks ago it opens on to an unobstructed view of mountain, valley, and big sky. This morning, a few clouds add interest. Pinks and blues step lightly around one another as the
It’s been a week where every day has felt like Friday so I’m relieved this morning that it’s finally arrived. It’s been a week of slow and steady, weary and wonder, doing things and letting other things go. I wish it was warmer but I remember smoky summers when forest fires ravaged our province and
“Do you think you’re falling into a depression around this COVID thing?” he asks. ”Yes,” I respond. But the weight is about so much more than the pandemic, and depression doesn’t fully describe what’s happening in and around me. When things get loud I tend toward quiet; these days I lean in even more to
I’m so weary. Of all of it. And I feel guilty for my tiredness because there’s work left to do. There’s truth to be touted (after wading through the weeds to figure out which truth is the true truth). There are causes to support (after investigating to get to the root of said causes to
My eyes are drawn to the schoolyard where six teenage boys are shooting hoops. That the sight seems extraordinarily ordinary speaks to the time in which we live. Ahead, the stoplight turns red and the convoy I’m in slows to a stop. I’m grateful because it gives me a few precious extra moments to watch
Eyes meet over the tops of masks. A locked door. “Who are you waiting to see?” Maybe I need a secret pass phrase to enter the building. The white swan met a stout man wearing a brown fedora. Nope. That doesn’t work. I wait, until eyes I think I recognize show up at the door