My previous title was the exact opposite of what I ended up believing after taking a walk back to the apartment complex and seeing the sprouting of what seems to be the beginnings of a new season upon us.
I love spring!
If you want to get me sentimental, tease me with the soon-to-be arrival of what is considered the long-awaited cue to blissful expectancy.
We stay buried in winter snowstorms and the unyielding chill in the air that attacks your every breath for longer months. And if the ailing planet can no longer provide the requirements for a white Christmas, you have to settle for the growing fear of what we’ve all done to initiate pitiful scraps of a half-made snowman.
The Coronavirus is scary, but limiting our view of practiced optimism is scarier.
Or maybe arriving at the local grocery store and being punched in the face with the coldness of panic mode and bare shelves, that used to house basic items is the horror of what we are navigating with themes that sound the alarm, indicating end of times.
It certainly doesn’t help that we have an installed nincompoop as Commander-in-Chief, whose bloated presence and accompanying blood red tan, evokes the terror of a Stephen King novel, capturing the frightening consequences when white supremacy endorses a human-like creature to rule supreme.
This is a great time to put your wild imagination to be some good use by cradling with a well dusted book, that contains the words you forgot existed because of the obsession with images and the “gram” that capture how “liked” you are when you click so well
Or perhaps you feel the burn to create a world that’s even more sinister and vibrant than the version we are currently embodying.
We have to take a break from the stormy headlines and the forceful opinions of those who get paid to squander every ounce of hope we are able to muster.
Yes, we are accommodating the level of unprecedented national hysteria that warrants a prayerful stance, that inspires the need to stalk our pantry with enough provisions to last the rest of the year.
But when I almost cursed out what turned out to be an innocent ally who picked up the cash and coins that my mother mistakenly dropped on the floor of a chaotic local Safeway in my absence, that’s when I had to check myself.
I happened upon my her taking something from a stranger while standing in the checkout line and immediately lost my shit.
I respectfully berated her for forgetting the revised rules of our existence, and saved stronger words for the poor fellow who was just trying to give assistance to an older woman in need.
All this while, I had been shrouded in righteous amusement as I witness the signature moods of the maddening crowd, cowering to the updated mandates and the normalized fear-mongering, courtesy of influential and well-positioned town criers.
I told myself that the unfathomable tragedy of the 9/11 terrorist attacks had been one of a handful of harrowing ordeals that schooled me about the generated resilience, that we as a collective are able to summon when nothing else will do.
The hours the entire nation felt the deadly wrath of Osama bin Laden and his robots of mass destruction was an impossibly beautiful day, that ended with soot-filled clouds and the bleakness of what tomorrows will never produce from an irrevocably vandalized landscape.
Once darkness was upon us, I recall the mild thunderstorm that swept in like weeping angels, and as I lay in my sizable bed, I felt sudden gratitude at the sound of torrents of emotions that captivated the enveloped weariness.
New York City, my endearing love affair that began when I was too young to calculate exactly what I was getting into, had been violently brought to its knees with a gaping hole in the heart.
It was quite challenging to visualize a complete recovery, especially when the weeks after were overwhelmed by the fervent pleas of frantic family members, who refused to accept the possibility that their missing loved ones would never miraculously show up with smiles and hugs.
But look at us now!
I still claim my status as a New Yorker, despite the bitter breakup about five years ago. Clearly when you’ve invested the best years of your life, through the amazing highs and debilitating lows, the strengthened bond becomes flexible enough for the complexities that tamper, but never permanently dislocate loyalty.
You move on after epically rising from the ashes, but you never forget.
Periods of uncertainty born from unexpected turmoil and the national health crisis of grand proportions will threaten life as we know it.
We resent the audacity of this formidable intrusion, and sadly, dwelling in a ridiculously wealthy country that harbors bipolar tendencies when it comes to securing the safety of citizens that pay for that privilege is an added fuel to an out-of-control fire.
How long do we stay bunkered down with the assembly of food and beverages that some of us are lucky enough to afford, although we may have a hard time fitting into our summer uniforms?
Schedules have been callously uprooted and households that usually flow with established activities, are being reshuffled with the unnerving protocol that match the vibes of war and famine.
But we can’t despair or give in to the temptations of biblical battlefields.
We are going to be okay!
Every precaution is being instituted, thanks to the wise decisions of illustrious organizations across the board, that have banded together to suspend or cancel high-profile events and forms of entertainment that typically draw large crowds.
We are going to be just fine because we have to be.
The alternative will make a mockery of the winning characteristics that are demanded from job applicants, but somehow we are reluctant to apply them to the situations that shouldn’t be dire enough to strip us.
It’s really bad now, but believe it or not, it could be a lot worse.
We don’t need Trump’s infected staffers to convince us that we will make it through with flying colors.
We already know the truth.
The worst already happened when Donald J. Trump was sworn into office and proceeded to evoke his white nationalism on those of us who were born to bear the brunt of what white supremacy summons after eight years of the best to ever do it.
We can do this! We must be wise about it, but yes we can!
And I’m living for when I can scream out loud, “I told you so!”