Never has spring felt so good. So promising. So essential. While I’m still cautious – internally and behaviorally – I’m also being pulled by the tide of hope that’s affecting everyone.

We’ve been Connecticut residents for 5.5 months now.

I know I’m not alone in my trippy-dippy relationship with time this past year. Days flow one into the other, a weekend indecipherable from a weekday. It’s April, no June, January?!—it’s all the same as we want to fast forward to better times and yet are stuck on groundhog day.

Watching this hawk eat a mouse, I hopelessly wished it were the mouse in our bedroom wall that’s woken me up every night this week.

And then they came to the end. Or at least the start of a new chapter…

It’s bad. Physically, mentally, emotionally, socially, I am deteriorating.

You’re with me, right??

It’s slow and insidious, but it’s happening.

The second time I heard the story about George Floyd on the radio, it was probably Wednesday, May 27, I had to rush over and turn it off. I couldn’t listen to him gasping, “I can’t breathe.” I couldn’t hear a voice that I knew was killed moments later.

The wins and losses, so far, of quarantining.