Dear America

Dear America,

I find myself now, sitting in the quiet of a Saturday morning. I keep coming to the idea that I should be learning something from this.
Last night’s rain was intense and left the grounds soaking wet. The sky is gray.
I can see this from the window in my loft. The wind is light, which I can tell because the branches in the trees are without any movement. The Earth itself is quenched and the mountains behind my home resemble an artist’s rendition of a sleepy morning in an Upstate life.

I am fine now, avoiding the pandemic madness for sure, and staying away from the news, which does nothing but report more of the same with conflicting articles about the “So-called,” curve, which we are trying to flatten.

I am staying away from the news as much as I can. And, to be honest, I never thought I would see times like now.
I never thought I would have to walk amongst my neighbors and neighborhood with a mask on, which I do without protest because in whichever way we return to normal again, I should hope that we find some normalcy soon.

Oh, but Mother Nature, she is still here.
Mother Nature is still around. She is always here to show us something beautiful, even in the ugly times.
There is something poetic about her. (Mother Nature, I mean.)
She is beautiful even when we are not.
Even at the ugliest of moments, Mother Nature remains unmoved. She doesn’t complain. She doesn’t bother with the pandemic or bicker with the nonsense of the daily news.
Mother Nature doesn’t worry herself with our politics. She doesn’t concern herself with our arguments. No, she just turns another rotation around the sun and keeps moving.

America,
I believe we are supposed to be learning something from this. You have taught us time and time again to mark well the lessons of our past; otherwise, we face repeating them again.
Apparently in times of crisis, we still argue.
It is within my heart and mind that I believe we are missing something, much like a bigger picture. Or maybe I am wrong and I’m missing the big picture myself

I am quiet now (just like the moment is.)
All I hear is a tiny ring in my ears, which I attribute to the absence of sound. Aside from the quiet hum of the machine in my computer and the poking of the keys as I type this message to you, for now, all is quiet. And I, for one, am grateful for this.

Sometimes, I think Mother Earth has these rainstorms on purpose. More than quenching the soil and satisfying the leaves; I swear she has it rain to settle the dust from our crazy little arguments.
The sky is sad, lugubrious and gray.
But I don’t mind.
It is starting to rain again. I can hear the chattering raindrops as they fall against the skylight above my head.

For now, this is still mine. This is my little corner of the world until fate has it differently.
I live on a quiet little country road with very little around me. There is an old Church across from my home, which has been there since the aught-years of 1800.
There is a little graveyard beside the chapel with old headstones and outhouse at the side of the chapel because there is no indoor plumbing.
The church is somewhat maintained but never used.
The old headstones are dated back to a time where perhaps all of the relatives of the deceased are deceased now as well.
For now though, the old Church is where it is, across from my home and standing as a reminder of our country’s history.

The grass is becoming greener by the day, which, for now gives the Earth a warm, gloomy appeal in the solace of a warm, comfy lullaby.
The vivid green and the dimness of a rainy sky suggests there is nothing more to do today than rest, get well, and watch something good, like say, an old black and white movie and eat something warm.

I cannot account for us as a community nor can I account for us as a society. But Mother Earth; she knows what to do.
She knows when to hush and have us be quiet.
I cannot account for the news, nor can I account for the accuracy or inaccuracy of popular opinions.
I have no room for them today.
I have no room for the arguments nor do I have time to clarify or justify my position.

See, I am like you.
I am unsure and perhaps uneducated on “What do we do now?”
No one has a crystal ball. No one knows the right answer.

Then again, I read some of the quotes on social media, which is always good for a laugh. I read people misquoting facts or re-posting misinformation and then I shake my head.
Sometimes I laugh and then I think of you.

America,
I am not sure where we are right now. I am not sure which way to go. I cannot say what normal is nor can I tell you about what the new normal will be in a few weeks or even a few months.
I just wish we could work together.
I wish we listened to Mother Earth on days like today and allowed ourselves a break without the constant need to be “Right” all the time.

I am comfortable not being right by the way.
I don’t need to be right. I just need us all to be better.
America,
I want us to represent you. I want us to lead you but it seems that the more we try, the more we argue about which side is right and which one is wrong.

America,
I am afraid of us sometimes. I am not sure where we are heading or what is happening. I hear about the news from other countries.
Everyone is trying to find the origin of a virus that is killing people. And people are pointing fingers to try and find someone to blame.
But dig this—
Does any of this even matter right now?

Maybe this virus was an accident that got out of a lab somehow. Maybe this was viral terrorism that escaped someone’s grip. Maybe this is because of all the above or none of the above but either way, there is a virus spreading across our world and people are still arguing about who is to blame or whether the virus is even real or not.

I have seen my city be = locked down over the last several weeks, which I support because the lives this saves could either be my own or someone I love.
I don’t want to see anyone sick. I also don’t want to see the economical bloodline we share fail to a heart-stopping rate of nationwide poverty.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t think anyone knows exactly what to do, but yet, there are people preaching and screaming, and arguing as if they do.

I suppose this is why I’m grateful for morning’s like today’s. Everything is quiet. Mother Earth told us all to stay inside. It’s raining out. Nothing is open anyway.
I think this is Mother Earth’s way of saying be glad for something. Be happy with the fact that although times are hard, Mother Earth is still around to show us something beautiful.
“Stop arguing,” she says. “And look at what I have for you.”


America,
I don’t mind the rain. I see this as a way to soften the dusty annoyance of public allergens, shaken from people and their loud opinions, as if they know it all. But you know what, America?
They don’t know shit!

No, I think today is a good day to take the Great Mother’s idea; to sit back, let the scene take effect and find myself entranced by the sound of rain and the taste of my morning coffee.
If this is what Mother Nature wants then she will hear no argument out of me. Not today . . .

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