April 1: The weather has been as volatile as my mood. Pouting, I didn’t want to go out in the gray chill for Kevin’s and my evening walk. But of course I went, and of course it tricked joy from my stony heart. From a neighborhood hill, I watched the glimmering start of a beautiful sunset from a surprisingly high and clear vista. As we walked, families said hello, more hearts and flowers blossomed in yards and windows, and yes, we even saw a glorious horizon-spanning rainbow at the end.
April 2: A tiny fairy of seedling fluff dances with the screen outside my window. Its body is a tiny brown seed; its hat — its umbrella? its blossom?— is a delicate sunburst of silky white threads. It moves up and down and side to side by inches. Dance on. You are lovely.
April 3: My work colleagues have plunged into video conferencing with joy and fearlessness. I, meanwhile, hide my scruffy hair and sweatshirts behind a perfectly nice photo. Today, at last, I activated my video for a virtual lunch break. I brought comfy pants, a tee shirt and a bit less vanity. My colleague’s contribution? Exactly the same Nats shirt I was wearing. Fine reward indeed!
April 4: Emerging from a gloomy day of weather and mood, I wandered over to church to collect a handful of fronds for Palm Sunday. Palms in hand, I walked back along our town’s deserted main street — and was awestruck by an explosion of extraordinary sunset light. It draped treetops in September gold. The stucco of a nearby church shimmered white and luminous. And against a gray sky lay chalices of trees lit from within.
April 5: I found flour at last at the grocery store!
April 6: A child in a green tee shirt, white shoes, blue helmet and red bike rides past my window. He’s chosen his direction well: a gentle rise up the long street to my left and and a curvy slope down the street to my right. Around and around, three times at least. With no cars, it’s paradise. As he passes again, I see raindrops on the walkway. I’ll miss him — until tomorrow.
April 7: Pouring rain yielded to sudden sunshine. The street was empty of cyclists and families. Then a delicate ball of steam tumbled downhill past my window. A phantom bit of weather, having its own fun.
A Poem, by Laura Kelly Fanucci
When this is over, may we never again take for granted:
A Handshake With A Stranger
Full Shelves At The Store
Conversations With Neighbors
A Crowded Theatre
Friday Night Out
The Taste Of Communion
A Routine Checkup
The School Rush Each Morning
Coffee With A Friend
The Stadium Roaring
Each Deep Breath
A Boring Tuesday
When this ends, may we find that we have become more like the people we wanted to be, we were called to be, we hoped to be, and may we stay that way — better for each other because of that worst.” by Laura Kelly Fanucci
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