She pulls her mask down to her throat so that her lips can speak clearly, just this last time, just this small rebellion.
My mom entered my childhood bedroom on Saturday morning as she often does: before 8am, and with an announcement.
“In these uncertain times…” is a phrase I’m really starting to hate. “Now more than ever…” is another group of words I’d like to punch in the face.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the day everything changed. When it became clear there was going to be a before and an after, and we realized that we were suspended somewhere in between.
Have you ever had a panic attack? It struck me this week that many people may never have felt the weary tightness in their chest, watched helplessly as the world tilted behind their eyes, been overcome by a silent, lurking, whirling darkness.