A May Moment...

16 January 2022: Weird day here. Went to campus early to get some work done there because I wanted to get out of the house (and back) before the impending storm. Got some decent work done and finished my weekly "Book Work To-Do List," a completely discrete weekly list (only book stuff!) that I started this semester. Washed the blackboards in the classrooms, too, for the first time what has to have been a year or more. Took a long, cold walk around town. Headed home. All of that felt good and satisfying. 

The snow started a bit after 2:00. It's pretty, but I guess. And there won't be too much. And tomorrow's a holiday, so the schedule won't be disturbed. These are all good things. Watched some TV, did some reading. Puttered around. Felt okay. Felt bad. Lather, rinse, repeat. Sunday blues, COVID-winter-style. 

It's cold and dark and I miss the sun and people and normal, which seems so distant. 

I think this every time the weather is extreme--standing outside in the blazing heat or in a foot of snow: "It is hard to believe that it can ever be cold enough to snow a foot" or "It's hard to believe it will ever be summer again..." One spot. One moment. And just six months later, it can be so different. 

Maybe that's why I've been thinking about this video on and off all day. May 27, 2021: not that long ago, but even then, I knew it was, as I wrote, a "Moment." So much feels different and worse right now. (I want to be clear that I mostly mean right now, because I know my emotions are mercurial.) It's cold and dark and gloomy. The windows and doors are closed, though drafty. Bing is gone and that still hurts so much. Wes is still here and sweet and such a blessing, but he's blind and clingy and there's a tinge of desperation to him so often. Veronica is lonely and doesn't understand he can't see her, so he hisses at her when she scares him. Omicron is raging and I have spent this weekend pretty damn alone. Was supposed to volunteer for an MLK Day of Service tomorrow, but COVID and snow put a stop to that. 

May seems so far away. Look at these posts from then. It's actually kind of stunning: first movies back in the theater, first trip to NY in over a year, happy hours and meals with friends, masks coming off, spring flowers in the ground. Hope and life and light.  

I know that I am stewing and wallowing. Trying to switch my brain to gratitude mode or at least distracted mode. And I've got an 8:00 video chat with my RC girls (and Mike), so that will help. But I miss May.