Sunday, first day of Eastern Standard Time
Well, democracy may be sinking from the battering of MAGA-hatted fools who listen to lying tricksters. (I voted, all my friends voted, and we are pessimistically hopeful.)
But when I woke up this morning, I first did the "thankful for this day" routine.
Said I to myself "This is the last day of my life, whether it goes another day, week, month, year or decade. I am glad for it."
After that, and getting used to the skin I was in, gravity greeting my feet again on the side of the bed, I looked around and saw that I had become a butterfly, as I left my chrysilis and picked up the dirty clothes I'd flung on the floor last night.
So here I've flown, my first flight of the day, to sip the nectar of coffee, and look at the laptop of beautiful messages. I breathe a deep breath, and smell something not quite pleasant. Maybe time for shower and breakfast...then on with my human life tasks of the day.
I'll meet many other butterflies today when I go to church. I'll smile at them, behind my mask protecting my lungs from virus particles, and be glad again to be flying in this lifetime.
Poppies and Butterflies, Vincent van Gogh, 1889