Time keeps moving even as life stands remarkably still. Last week, a non-blur of much of the same. Wake, coffee, read, eat, work, run, video chat, watch a show, repeat. Sleep when it works out; try not to yield to anxiety when it doesn’t. Go to therapy. Don’t go anywhere else. One day we hiked a trail with friends, distanced, of course, but still, being outdoors made the world brand new for an afternoon. They’re the friends who inspired me to fall in love with New England, and many years of friendship make everyday adventures simple to plan. We compared notes on our pandemic experiences while exploring a state park and promised to meet again in a few weeks. Having the time to meet up in the middle of the week made lemonade out of the furlough lemons for a few hours, at least.
We finally ordered food from a favorite restaurant stretched that dinner into lunch as well. Takeout Indian never tasted so good. I think the heightened awareness of ordinary pleasures during these endlessly similar days is an unexpected gift and gratitude. I try to note them, because they’re an antidote to the negativity that kicks in at times. It was a slow week, a pretty good week. The best of times. The worst of times. And here are a few snapshots illustrating that in my neck of the woods, at least, we did our best to be present to it all, alive.
We’re all in this together, even as we are, for a time, apart.
