The trees outside my window are bare. When we moved into this house a few months ago, the leaves were so plentiful I couldn’t see any of the other new houses being built in our subdivision. But now, although the tree trunks create a barrier, it isn’t the same. Then again, the world is not either.
We mourn the many loved ones lost to the pandemic. We mourn the time we’ve lost in sharing the lives of our parents, children, grandchildren, and friends. We mourn the sensation of a hug, whispering in an ear, a simple touch of kindness.
We complain that we are tired – tired of being in the house, tired of being scared when we
go into a public place like the grocery, tired of masks (which we wear because we know they are essential), tired of Zoom/Crowdcast/Free Conference call, etc., and tired of having our grandchildren, nieces, and nephews think we live in a small facetime screen.
We are thankful if our family and friends are healthy, if those we know who become ill get well, that we have Zoom/Crowdcast/Free Conference call, etc. to stay in touch, that there is a vaccine that at some point we might get, and that we know there will come a day when this darkness gives way to light.
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