We are all out of it.
This crisis is draining us.
And that’s okay.
Be kind to yourself.
Get some rest. And realize things are harder now.
Eddie
We are all out of it.
This crisis is draining us.
And that’s okay.
Be kind to yourself.
Get some rest. And realize things are harder now.
Eddie
Thanks for hanging in there with me.
It’s been good to blog in April.
I’m not sure I will keep up with it after.
This whole last month has been so exhausting.
But, I just saw Golden Girls is on Hulu so that’s something to look forward to.
Stay safe, stay sane and do what you can.
If that’s just watching tv or playing video games that’s fine.
Eddie
It’s hard to know what that means.
Some social/physical distancing and respecting people’s space.
Wearing masks when you can’t physical distance.
Not going out when you are sick.
And I think very importantly don’t panic.
You mail and packages should be fine.
Your food should be fine.
Just wash your hands. Respect each other and we can get through this further.
I am just so tired.
And have been tired since this crisis ramped up.
I think it’s psychically and physically taxing.
Happy I can work at home, happy Lanna can too.
I hope we get through this an improved nation and world.
And that we can learn to be better to each other.
Especially those who are having a tough time.
We are too rich a nation for so many to be struggling.
For some not even to have shoes.
To have some with billions while others wait in mile long lines for food is totally insane.
We can and must do better.
Was reading one of my favorite poetry books today “Blue Horses” by Mary Oliver.
This one felt perfect for our current time.
————-
No matter what the world claims,
its wisdom always growing, so it’s said,
some things don’t alter with time:
the first kiss is a good example,
and the flighty sweetness of rhyme.
No matter what the world preaches
spring unfolds in its appointed time,
the violets open and the roses,
snow in its hour builds its shining curves,
there’s the laughter of children at play,
and the wholesome sweetness of rhyme.
No matter what the world does,
some things don’t alter with time.
The first kiss, The first death.
The sorrowful sweetness of rhyme.