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…
