I'm thinking we need a signal, some indication or sign that you are vaccinated. A V sign? A happy dance?
A year ago I jotted down a list of "silver linings" in an effort to get through a quarantine I thought would last just weeks! They haven't quite dulled to a tarnish... but here's how they look before and now.
I spent the week before our February snowstorm waiting for its arrival, watching weather reports with amusement and excited anticipation. Maybe a little dread. The ten-day predictions changed every few hours, from a few inches of snow to the extreme of eight inches one day and eleven the next, then dialing it back again. Extreme for Portland anyway. I was just waiting, checking the weather the way I used to doom scroll for the daily news - what disaster is in store today? This was way more fun however than waking up thinking, what has he tweeted today?
Despite what you see in most of my grandkid blogs, our time with them isn't all walks in the woods, teachable moments, and kids say the darndest things. We don't have enough time together to get too annoyed or frustrated with each other, though it does happen. Like the third time we ask them to … Continue reading Coping
More than ever, it is time for Nana and Pa to show up, and help our two grandkids run off energy and frustration, connect with nature, and find moments of joy in the great outdoors, abundant here in Portland.
I had a blog post all ready to go, but it was full of blue sky and soft sea breezes, crashing waves and soaring pelicans. I just can't bring myself to post it amidst this unsettling, almost apocalyptic scenario laid out before me, with so much suffering, loss, discomfort, and confusion all around.
I'm at a restaurant a thousand miles from home, seated closely around a table with ten beloved family-in-law members. We are eating, drinking, chatting, unmasked, and I'm thinking, how the hell did I get here? Alarm bells clang in my head.
... I got caught up in wondering what people wondered about. What are the burning questions of our time? Google knew.
The sun glistens on the water, wild daisies shimmer in the breeze near my feet, and the warmth from the rock seeps into my hips. Tiny waves lap on the rocky shore. A stand-up paddler passes, barely a wake behind her, and I wonder in this quiet, do I really want this quarantine to end?
Adaptation comes little by little, accepting what I must, embracing what I can, trying to not tip over. I can do this, I can do this. I have no choice.