A thought that demands remembering from these plague-ridden times is this: every day and every week bleeds together. There are no longer any landmarks for the passage of time. Each Monday could be a Thursday. Saturday is interchangeable with any other Saturday or Sunday. We have no idea if we’re making progress as there are no trees or mountains. Only endless prairie grasses in every direction.
And then my son’s birthday came. We were reminded that the world still spins. The days on the calendar pass. The endless ticking and tocking of the clock is still very much in play.
We saw some family briefly. The ones we’re bubbling with. Dogs played together. Food prepared and eaten. Jokes told and laughs had.
But know this: it feels endless. Featureless. Until we count these seemingly tiny details. And that is part of navigating the new normal.
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