Waiting

11 a.m.,  Friday, April 3.

I feel the urge to write something—a blog?—but about what???

I’m weary of COVID-19 chatter, doomsday talk, and advice about how to stay sane while isolted.

I have watched some inspiring TED talks, especially J.K. Rowling’s Harvard commencement speech from 2011 touting the importance of failure and imagination, but enough is enough. I can only sit for so long.

I have hauled out my ancient sewing machine and stitched up 4 masks, none of them wholly successful, but all of them probably better than nothing.

I hate the idea, and feel, of wearing a mask. I hope that doesn’t mean I will find myself disobeying orders one of these days.

I have regrouted the tile in my shower. A nasty job. It looks better, but who cares?

I have nibbled at the edges of a writing project in hopes that one day I will figure out what I’m trying to say.

There’s a bit of snow on the ground, but the sun just came out and I’m outa here to move my body for an hour or so.

I’’ll be back. Maybe with a new insight.  Stay tuned.

12:10 p.m.

27 degrees, bright sun. It’s quiet out there in the world. A few walkers on the sidewalks. A few cars on the road. A few skiffs of snow in the process of melting.

The world seems to be in waiting for spring. Coming soon. We know that.

We’re waiting, too, for a new day to dawn. We’re just not quite sure when.