P.S. In this minute...

I feel some weird sort of shift. No doubt, I feel something not quite stagnant. Still, our country and all it contains is riddled with unknowns- unanswerable, uncertainties, unsolvables lurking in the midst of this slight shift. I wonder if we are to use this time to look within, rethink who we are, where we are and how we can bring some springland fairyness to this troubled planet. Maybe, maybe not. It sounds good, but the truth is, I'm still practicing staying in this one minute because in 60 seconds, it will be a different minute that brings its own -everything. Sounds like I'm skipping out on some intentional opportunity to grow, but actually, trying to stay in this one minute, and then doing it, again and again, DOES promote some sense of something better than sitting frozen behind a curtain waiting for the world- that used to drive us crazy -to come back.  That ship, filled with sick folks, has sailed, friends.

Different is a word that keeps tagging alongside me in this minute and is a constant reminder that even if it doesn't feel like it, this time we are in is NOT immutable; still. I'm feeling that with a vague confidence that when things change, sometimes we need any bits we can muster together to weather the differentness and learn to adapt. So that's what I'm doing; mustering and weathering. Indulging in a fresh tomato sandwich with  Dukes and Wonderbread feels much more appealing, but is just as messy.

 I'm trying to get used to new vocabulary like "community spread" (not a new margarine) and COVID-19 (sometimes I envision that word looking like the monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey- It does stand between our past and our future, right?)

 Every morning, along with the weather, I check "the" graph for our daily case/death/hospital numbers and then I trek outside to look at my growing front windshield crack that is trying to curve and flatten much better than the graphs. Maybe I should put a mask on the front of my car so people can see what a difference it can make. "Honey, did you see the crack on that car windshield? It seems to be flattening!" Honey mumbles, "Must be the mask." Then they both pull theirs out of their pockets, and put them on, and switch to sign language for the rest of their walk.

If Google had a satellite program that would show us time away and up close, that might be cool. Wait. Maybe not so good to know on a whim. I think, for now, I'll keep working on This.One.Minute.