Uncertainty.

Intertwined threads of worry. Of fatigue – SOUL CRUSHING FATIGUE. Of sadness.

A sense of space and time that has gotten soft and hazy, one day bleeding into the next.

A vague recollection of something different, something better.

A world without the hatred, the fighting, the politicization of everything from masks to toilet paper. A world without plexiglass dividers and x’s on the floor, evenly spaced out to their six perfect lonely feet.

Trying to make sense of the senseless, order out of the chaos, peace out of the unrest.

Missing hugs, missing birthday parties, missing NORMAL.

Trying to “look on the bright side,” when the bright side is vastly overshadowed by the avalanche of a global pandemic, systemic racism, lies, and more than 210,000 souls gone.

Trying to move forward when you’re frozen in place.

Knowing that collectively we’re all going through a similar fate, but feeling totally alone all the same.

A feeling of heaviness. Of a weight that just might crush us.

Tears. Never quite spilling, but always at the surface.

Wanting something different, but not trusting what “different” would even look like.

Taking a deep breath. A big, deep breath. More, more. Gulping breaths.

Praying, if you’re the praying sort, for some sort of break. For the rainbow after the storm. For the sun shining through the rain.

Knowing deep down – way way deep down – that it really will be okay, that the madness will end, that together we’ll find a new normal.

Knowing deep down – way way deep down – that despite all evidence to the contrary, people can come together, that there can be a common good.

Knowing deep down – way way deep down – that the way we feel right now is temporary. That everything is temporary.

Finding somewhere, anywhere: In your child’s laughter, in the soft floof of your dog’s neck, in the changing colors of the fall leaves, in the new song from your favorite band, in a really good cup of coffee…

There is hope.