“I am not thriving.”
My son is 17. Exhibiting what I choose to believe is normal behavior, he doesn’t converse much with us. So when he shared this with us a few minutes ago, while making pancakes for approximately the 15th time in three days; I found it a bit unsettling. He and Chris had just been to the pharmacy to pick up medicine. I think it was the first time he was outside all day, and seeing the normally relatively busy Vernon Avenue with next to no cars jarred him. It’s understandable.
My emotions, on the other hand, felt more manageable today. Instead of the usual 5-10 people we have coming into the office, there were only three. My thoughts about these individuals weren’t all that charitable, but it’s progress. And people are more readily accepting the mail as an option. I’ll take it as progress.
There are silver linings. I can come home from work and not think about what the evening holds before crawling into my jammies. I ‘participated’ in Lenten vespers while donning said jammies and with a pupper in my lab. And the above mentioned exchange with my son likely wouldn’t have happened if we were all running in 50 different directions like we usually are.
There’s a Mexican restaurant in the bottom of the building I work in. They had St. Patrick’s day type balloons out yesterday. I feel like the picture is representative of my psyche. Trying to stay peppy and positive, but really just blowin’ in the wind.