Gasping for air.
I am tired of holding my breath every day. I don't quite remember what it is like to not fear the beginning of a new month and what those next thirty days will bring. For five months straight we have collectively lived in a societal state of breath-holding fear. Each month, something new. A new salt to our barely healing wounds. A new item on the long list of anxiety-causing subjects. The news of giant bees and bats and fires and impeachments and empty grocery aisles and hospital beds and schools felt like the world was collapsing into chaos over and over and over again. People began to expect bad news. And it came. It piled on and on and on. A deeply divided election, a civil rights movement, a political fight, a (still remaining) pandemic, an argument over health and science, an explosion. Each day it was something new. And the world was in it together. That should be comforting really. They say misery loves company, but honestly, too mu...