On my solitary and socially distant walks, I think about what words to write here and what photos I might share. Then, in the face of almost 27,000 deaths just in the United States, let alone the whole world, I know I can’t write about socks, as I recently mentioned.
I wake in early hours beset with worry and sorrow. I go down the list of my loved ones: please be safe. If you can’t be safe, please know I love you.
My glass half-full is leaking.
Still, I try to say thanks and to be grateful and that helps.
- to all the thousands–millions–of medical workers, service workers, cleaners, post office workers, workers from home, moms and dads, the workers now without jobs, the volunteers, the homeless, and the hungry–all of you.
- to Rebekah, Donna, Dorothy, and all the others making face masks here in the land of plenty.
- to the food banks, Jose Andres, David Guas, and all the others in my neighborhood and in yours feeding people.
- to Shilpa, who got us our groceries, and all the other helpers.
- to my friends for being in my heart, as always.
I am grateful
- for Tom and our children. I say their names in the early morning darkness. Be safe, be well.
- for my parents, brothers, and their families– even more grateful these days.
- for the mockingbird who sings on the top of the holly tree in the (almost) secret garden I have been walking in alone this past month.
- for the other birds and the flowers and the spring trees.
Please be safe and please be well and I will try to do the same. I will be back soon.