As I write this post, rain pings off our roof, its force washing away whatever grime is up there. I watch drops zing past my office window, straight down to the just-wakening garden on the south side of our house. I’m grateful to be indoors, dry and warm.
National Poetry Month is almost over. Copies of my chapbook, How We Learned to Shut Our Own Mouths, have sold here and there, and feedback has been generous. For that, I am also grateful.
So, what’s next?
I’ve been thinking about that a lot over the past few weeks. With summer looming, I can’t wait to get back outside for more than my daily walk, to hike along wooded trails or beside lakes and rivers, to take my camera out for a long photo shoot, have a picnic somewhere. My attention span at the computer grows ever shorter. My patience with social media wanes. After more than a year of being home all the time, I feel especially impatient for fresh air and a different view.
Certainly, I’m not unique in that feeling.
I’m planning on shifting what One Minnesota Writer looks like this spring, with a move toward more of my own photos and maybe fewer words. More posts written on the fly from wherever I am. It’s time to reintroduce ourselves to the broader world – carefully, slowly, with respect for the fact that not everyone is vaccinated yet, not everyone is going to be so eager to leave their own house.
I felt excited when I got my second vaccine last Friday, and when I put a new state parks permit on my car’s windshield. On Sunday, my daughter, now fully vaccinated, stepped inside our house for the first time in over a year. Possibilities are multiplying and I can’t sit still.
This is what optimism feels like. It’s one more thing for which to be grateful.
Happy Wednesday, everyone.