I took a serotonin walk this morning—one of those long late winter walks defined by continually criss-crossing streets to stay on the sunny side. The temperature has been climbing, thank goodness. Crocuses are popping up through leaf litter and in the parks the hellebores that were trampled by our last snowfall are stretching their necks back into shape. When I peer over the tops of wrought iron fences, I spot snow drops in postage stamp yards. They’re the same harbingers of spring that I breathe easier upon seeing every year, but this year they feel more poignant than ever, like little memory markers of a whole pandemic year passed.
Last night our back windows were open in the evening and at one point there was an extended ambulance wail coming from the highway nearby. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary really and certainly not the kind of thing that would normally cause me to pause. But the particular pitch of the siren combined with the lingering light in the March evening sky, transported me back in time 365 days and packed a wallop of grief and longing so strong it stopped me in my tracks.
There’s a new season of The Double Shift podcast out this week and I listened to it as I chased sunlight around city blocks this morning. I love this podcast every season, but this first episode felt moving and affirming in a whole new way. We’re not real-life friends, but is sure is nice to have Katherine Goldstein and Angela Garbes around for company.
How about all of you? How are things feeling in your worlds, one year later?