It’s been a year. 525,600 minutes. 12 months, 52 weeks, 365 days, 4 seasons…
One incredible research project, two messed up ankles, three jobs.
There’s a million ways I could measure the last year. Although almost none of them fall into the categories RENT prescribed.
In daylights: all of them, although I didn’t get out and enjoy as many as I wish I had.
In sunsets: I miss watching them wherever we used to be on a Saturday evening.
In cups of coffee: This… this is still applicable. Probably about 365 cups.
In inches: gained? Yikes yeah I’d rather not think about it.
In miles: *shrug* we didn’t really go anywhere.
In laughter: We had to laugh, we did… but I think it always felt like we were laughing instead of crying.
In strife: That…. yeah, there was more than enough of that.
Now the next verse is much more accurate and perhaps positive if you can believe that…
In truths that she learned: There were a lot of those… how to value my own importance, what to push, when to breathe.
In times that she cried: I’m estimating around 30. And every single one of them was worth it.
In bridges he burned: lets go with Trump on this one… I’m hoping he burned them all, and that when the time comes he’ll have nowhere to go.
Or the way that she died: Shot by a police officer in her own home. Breonna Taylor, 3/13/2020. Say her name.
It’s been a year. One heck of a fucking year.
It’s been a year since Nick and I woke up, put masks on for the first time and went to a coffee shop for what would be the last time for several months. We went to the park, we walked, and we went home knowing it would be a few weeks before we did anything like that again.
We had no idea it would be months or that a year later, life would still look very different.
Coffee & Conundrums 