I was born on a Monday. How poetic that the first step in my journey as a blogger (and eventual podcaster) should come on a Monday... a Monday full of uncertainty, but a Monday, nonetheless.
March 16, 2020:
This
morning, the sky felt heavy - dark and overcast in a thick blanket of
gray - as I desperately tried to explain to my daughter why she couldn't play
with her friends today or any other day in the near future. And while
the clouds were able to hold the weight of the water they carried, those
words were just too much for her slender little frame. With each tear
that fell silently down her porcelain cheeks, my heart unraveled a
little more.
"But I just got better," she whispered through muffled sobs.
We'd
already been doing our part. I'd kept her home and inside while she ran
a low grade fever. For a week, she'd missed dance class and playing
with her friends, when
they came home from school. It's not easy to slow down, when you're
ten-years-old and so full of passion for life and living.
But,
by noon, the sun emerged from the curtain of clouds that had covered it
and, even though it's still cool outside, we opened the windows for
fifteen minutes to let in the light and fresh air.
In the garden, the snowdrops are blooming, and they remind me that, just like winter, this new storm can't last forever. And when it's over, we'll bloom again.
In the garden, the snowdrops are blooming, and they remind me that, just like winter, this new storm can't last forever. And when it's over, we'll bloom again.
*****
And bloom again, we did... perhaps not the way I, or anyone else imagined we might. But we still have the present moment to act and change the future.
These are the thoughts of a Sometime Sunday Momma.
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