I think there’s a collective tiredness right now. Tired of what’s been, tired of what we’re told is coming. Tired of waiting, tired of longing.
School has opened its books on our table tops, vacations have become walks to the mailbox and stolen moments on the porch. Spring feels different from behind some open blinds and a window pane.
This is rough, all of these new constants, the frayed strings of bad news while the sun is shining on everything but our skin. It’s a warped new reality none of us quite grasps how to approach or maintain. But we’re trying, and not a single worldly change has ever occurred without someone first doing that.