I received the second dose of the COVID-19 vaccine yesterday.
“When autumn winds have stolen summer’s last kiss I will find you again in my dreams; over and over past thousands of Thursdays, until I can meet you under grey skies and flaming trees.”Nicole Lyons
As the calendar pages turn and summer begins to loosen its grip on the world, many people become a bit despondent and lament the end of the long, warm days of July and August as they are replaced by the extended darkness of autumn and winter evenings.
I, however, love the shorter days of fall.
Amid all of the reactions and gifs and videos on social medial today, it was a single tweet of thirteen words from a man and writer that I respect that struck me the hardest.
“On the death of a friend, we should consider that the fates through confidence have devolved on us the task of a double living, that we have henceforth to fulfill the promise of our friend’s life also, in our own, to the world.”– Henry David Thoreau
Today would have been my best friend’s 40th birthday.
It should have been.
My second child, my second daughter, turns two today.
My first, the oldest, is an eight-year-old that acts like she’s 14, and since there is such a large gap between number one and number two – for a very, very, very, very good reason – the past two years have been a refresher course in infant and toddler life.
One question that COVID-19 has brought to the forefront of our societal conversations is, Who are the essential workers?
The first professions that immediately spring to mind are obvious: doctors, nurses, firefighters, police officers. However, the pandemic has proven that there are additional tiers and classes of essential workers, including grocery store employees, delivery drivers, warehouse employees, non-frontline healthcare employees, and teachers.
My wife and I are in these last two categories.
I’m not a journaler by nature.
Yes, I have written down my innermost thoughts on occasion, but generally I jot down short quick notes on almost everything that pops into my brain that I then compile to use later for writing that I will publish, either here or in my newsletter.
Yet I felt that living through a time when a viral droplet infection — a silent, invisible killer — raced across the globe and was documented in real time was as good an occasion as any to keep a daily record of my thoughts.
It’s after 1 a.m. on a Saturday night/Sunday morning and while I’m ostensibly doing work for a class I’m taking, I can’t stop thinking about a phone call I received today. The bottle of wine I just finished is helping with the deep reflection, just FYI.
As a parent and homeowner, it can be difficult to not become a slave to tasks.