More than a year
of not being with friends
or meeting new ones.
More than a year
of not wandering streets
engaging strangers
for whatever reasons.
More than a year
of not attending concerts
theaters, or any public events,
of perfecting vicarious experience:
a futile exercise.
More than a year
of Trump’s outrageous behavior
inciting extremist groups and individuals
and their antisocial acts
challenging societal norms
threatening the structures
of democratic society.
More than a year
during which
Lynn died.
I find myself
reimagining her personage
marveling at her character.
How fortunate have I been
to have shared her life.
More than a year
during which my family
has rallied to my support
to sooth my melancholy
to help find strength
through their accomplishments,
joy through their being.
Aaltoe's Blog 
March 29, 2021 at 2:22 am |
What a year, Dad. More than a year. I, too, find my thoughts turn to Mom and how fortunate I’ve been to have had her as my mom, connecting times past and now. And to have you as my dad, too. Glad we can be so close even when unable to be in close proximity.