I expected it. I didn’t realize its full impact until days later. So much has been canceled, but I held onto the hope that this late June gathering of writers wouldn’t be another victim of the virus. The joy of looking forward to something glimmered until the email arrived. The organizers were unable to create a plan that was safe for all of us. We were going to meet virtually.
Instead of “Pomp and Circumstance” or the “Wedding March”, the soundtrack of this Spring might be more akin to the sound of air escaping from a balloon. You might even be feeling a little deflated yourself.
The young adults in my house are tired of living in a cage and are restless to spread their wings again. Honestly, I am too. The good old standbys of comfort baking and Netflix no longer provide the solace they offered a few weeks ago.