The Winds of Change …

July 16, 2020 … Thursday (Summer (?) of Covid)

Time. Even now with all the time I’ve (we’ve) got ~ there never seems to be enough of it.

I left the house tonight around 9:15 on my nightly walk. We are expecting rain after midnight and under the gathering clouds I walked the cliff road.

On my way down the road there is more water to see – the angle of the houses and the road offer me more of a water view. On my way back, I see more homes and trees.

The clouds were gray and thusly the Sound … it always reflects the sky. It was steely tonight … cold and a bit scary. The winds were brisk and small white caps could be seen here and there.

The winds of change.

I passed under that glorious Silver Poplar and stood, eyes closed, and listened to the swish rustle of her leaves. Below those many branches fallen leaves lay on the road and scuttled along it in the breezes. The last few nights there have been more and more leaves on the ground.

It feels like Fall is in the air. I know it’s coming … I’m just not ready. As much as I love autumn … and as much as I love pumpkins and all things cozy … I’m not ready.

I guess I could be … we’ve had our TWO DAYS of Summer. It was 71 yesterday and today. I know we’ll have warmer days to come … maybe we’ll have ONE 80º day before we head back down to the 50s … but I’m not counting on it.

I’d like more Summer and I’m not ready for Fall. Not now. Not yet. Not THIS summer. I want a REAL summer … I want hot days and warm moonlit nights and to experience ice cream melting down my arm from a cone that I cannot lick fast enough. I want a (mild) sunburn. I want to wear a tank top and NEED it. I want to sit outside at 10pm and not need a sweater and a sweatshirt over it to be comfortable.

I want a summer do-over. Hell, I want a 2020 do-over.

Tonight I saw the neighbors who walk their dog … the dog that gives me kisses. They are lovely – the people and the dog kisses. A real perk. Tonight as I passed them I felt a pang, a twinge … I wanted to hug them both. I’m missing human connection and not just for myself –I feel this country is aching for a hug.

I’m a little melancholy. The winds of change have been swirling around and I’m not ready for them to be here. Not now. Not yet.

As I walked tonight there were no deer and I counted only eight bunnies … I told the last one to scamper on home before a hungry owl found him – to go snuggle with his babies. It made me sad.

This pandemic has kept so many of us from snuggling with our babies. Friends and families are apart … parents from children … grandparents from their babies’ babies. It has kept us from being who we are … doing what we love. As I walk by the homes and lights (which were on tonight) I was heavy-hearted. I want this to be over. I don’t want another 100,000 people to perish. I want life to resume and go back to some semblance of normalcy. Yet – for hundreds of thousands of Americans and for millions, worldwide – life will never be normal again. And for far too many– life will never be again.

My thoughts were all over the place as I listened for the frogs and the birds … there were none. Not tonight. Too windy? Too late? I thought of my uncle who has Covid … I hope he and his caretaker will be okay. I thought of my mom’s friend – they have been friends for over 70 years – she won’t see August. My brother-in-law might not see tomorrow. My heart is heavy and I feel the winds of change blow stronger.

I watched Rachel tonight … that is always a balancing act between keeping in the know and maintaining my fragile sanity. We have to vote in November to ensure that this current President does NOT get re-elected. The winds of change need to blow him out of office (and into prison). I fear our country will not survive unless we do.

As I walked back home I could smell the island mix of sea air and woodsmoke. It was heavenly. Someone was having a gathering … a political rally or poetry reading? I know not. I do know that they weren’t dancing, naked around the solstice pole frying whatever brain cells were left from the massacre in the 60s – that was last month.

As I continued along I could see the last slivers of the sunset … deep pinks and vivid oranges … so strikingly beautiful and promising a good day tomorrow. As I stepped under the poplar, once again, a single leaf fluttered down and landed atop my head. I plucked it off my hair and held it out in my hand and watched it blow off down the lane behind me.

The winds of change … they are blowing.

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