One Day at a Time

Yesterday was not a good day. Today was much better. It's hard to gauge what was different from Wednesday to Thursday since not much worth mentioning was. It is Thursday? Right?The world just felt heavy and unfair yesterday. It's true what they say (whoever they are): what a difference a day makes. Today I was up by 9 o'clock, bed made, dressed, plan for the day made. I suppose it bears mentioning that I was in bed early last night. I'd really just had enough so I tucked myself in by 9 o'clock and read until I was cross eyed, which was only a few chapters. It was what I used to do before quarantine and I've missed this part of my normal daily routine. 

The boys were up before me this morning. Not normal. Mike was busy in the dining room, his makeshift office. Ted was biking with a friend: his provisional path. I woke Lily according to the note she left on the counter before I left to put in a few hours at work. This girl has yet to find an alarm that does the trick. The office feels like a spa now. I called my dad on the way to pick up a few things at the grocery from my other sanctuary...the car. Is anyone else sick of having nothing to talk about except Covid 19? No where else to go except the grocery store?

Mike and I went for a walk along the river trails when I got home and it was good to get some fresh air, move my body, lose my mind. Ted finished his last exam, thus his first year without much fanfare, or too many beers on State Street. Who really knows what the fall semester will look like for him. For us. Dinner was leftovers from Tuesday so Siete de Mayo. It was even better than Cinco de Mayo. Ted's Dashing now and Lily is watching the final episode of Breaking Bad. Walter White is her major quarantine accomplishment. We've gotten very lackadaisical here on all fronts. Please don't judge.

Right now I hear a train in the distance. It makes me feel wistful, a little weak. That sound on the horizon of crossing the country in the night, it's chimerical. Sunset is 8 o' clock this evening. Ninety-six days of more light, and yet, I feel time slipping away. As the days get longer, darkness gains. Ebb flow, give take. These are such strange, unsettling times. I'm not sure how I feel. I know we're all in this same space, but forgive me if I cannot say I find much comfort in this communion. 

Our neighbor brought over a giant word search earlier. It almost takes up an entire wall. She thought it would keep us out of trouble. She was right. I find it the most ironic metaphor for life right now. I stand before it and I get dizzy searching. It all becomes a confusing jumble just like today's reality. One word at a time. One day at a time. It's the best I can do. I have no idea when this will be over.