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| The Quiet. |
- The Quiet. The beautiful, terrifying Quiet.
- Pink blossoms in full bloom on the corner of 33rd and Broadway, with beautiful Edison bulbs hanging inside them. It took my breath away!
- a two-hour conversation on the phone with Tyne. My beloved friend and mentor.
- An extraordinary email from Ruthy Froch, that left me reeling
- Sending and receiving postcards and letters.
- Watching Trump destroy our country and himself, being filled with anger but mostly extraordinary sadness; and a fire in my belly to do everything in my power to contribute to changing the future.
- The passing of my friend, colleague, and inspiration, Terence McNally.
- And how many wonderful texts, emails, phone calls, and conversations with those who shared his days his passing inspired, and how grateful I feel to have been lucky enough to have been in his circle.
- Lessons from Tati (Eat that snack. Take the nap. Don’t morally assess anything. Don’t do. Be.)
- The incredibly somber moment Alec and I stopped in our tracks as we came across the impromptu refrigerated morgues outside on the sidewalk of Mt Sinai Queens.
- Everything I learned whilst teaching
- Learning that thinking outside the box about how to stay connected whilst apart has provided all of us with huge new ideas and experiences never previously explored. Digital classes, weddings, funerals, birthdays… a way to be included where we’d previously assume one could not be included.
- Cooking with Alec
- Watching “Sister Act” with Alec and bursting at the seams with joy [and full choreography performed at 100] sharing it with him
- Dawn FaceTimes with Bobby every Tuesday.
- The birds that are starting to figure out that our bird feeder is a new local hangout in the neighborhood (and of course, Tati’s response…)
- This new concept of time...
- The freeing, masked, frightened and dangerous walks we took, almost every day
- Supporting Etai. And Alexandra. Proverbially holding them.
- Alec, making a sweet little breakfast (grain-free) toast and egg every morning, and brought it to me on a blue plate and with the proudest grin.
- Confronting The Quiet.
- ...and welcoming it, too.
- The discovery that "returning to normal" is not possible, and not going to happen, and the accompanying grief in response to that reality...
- ... and Yet. Yet. The recognition that our world's "normal" was not sustainable; our planet could not survive it, our bodies could not endure the stress, the hustle, the culture of lack. That we have been forced to face the consequences of our actions and thus, must build a new world. We have thus been invited--inside this horrendous global catastrophe filled with plague and fear and death-- to imagine a world with less hustle, less poverty, less inequity, and filled with more compassion, fairness, empathy, and wellness for ourselves and our one and only planet.
- Dawns. Lots of Dawns.
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| Spring isn't canceled. |
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