Saying day two of the new normal seems like a misnomer, normal seeks a definition like a ship seeks wind in the doldrums. It might be a while, so prepare for a long trip, Sailor.
So, a walking we will go. Not quite the half marathon of the other day, but long enough to have bizarre dystopian conversations about hunting deer and growing vegetables to sell at road side stands. When dystopian becomes bizarre, I guess we have new reality, right?
I do love a good walk though. Today I saw the first robins of spring, a sign of hope that nature will press on for us even as stores shutter and restaurants consider the same. We need these signs. I needed to meet this horse and after four visits past his pasture he recognized me enough to approach. Tomorrow, I will bring an apple.
If I cannot have my human friends, I will gladly befriend this guy.
And then wash my hands, twice, because you just never know where he’s been.
Crazy times. Today’s normal was good enough. We ate. We read. We wrote. We walked. We thanked the robins for their hope. Tomorrow maybe the willows will start to bud.
Wash your hands. Twice. For at least 20 seconds. Hot water. Soap.