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During the recent winter months, this country’s pandemic and political unrest, coupled with the season’s cold and darkness, created an oppressive pall that seemed to overlay everything. Fearful of outer conditions, I burrowed deep under the pall, hiding, cocooning. My hibernation consumed me, whispering to me that there would never be any other reality.

But these past few days, early March temperatures rose to the 50s and 60s. The snow was all but gone. The birds were chirping at top volume. Winter’s dark, enshrouding clouds parted, and blindingly bright rays of sunlight beamed through the windows of my home.

Suddenly, I was panic-stricken. It felt as though some heavy, protective blanket had been ripped off me, leaving me to face life unshielded, undefended.

“Am I ready for this?” I asked myself.

“Not quite yet,” I answered back. “But I soon will be.”


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