It is hard to believe that it has been nearly a year since all of this madness began. I remember about a year ago, at this time. There was talk about a virus coming and people were getting sick. No one ever expected it to reach this proportion. No one ever dreamed that Covid would become what it became. Certainly, no one ever thought New York City would cancel the march of all marches and shut down the St. Patrick’s Parade. And this year too. It seems the luck of the Irish might not be as lucky this year.
In fact, I can remember sitting in a meeting about this. We thought we would all be fine. We never expected anything to be this way. Even when there were talks about shutting the City, the shutdown was only supposed to last for two weeks. 

Two weeks?

See this? This is my therapy.
These are my dreams and this is my way to close my eyes and see something other than, say, the homeless man dangling on Lexington with a dirty paper cup, asking for change at 5:30 in the morning.
This is my weight to balance the off-balance moments, like now, when the stress comes. I need to do this. I have to or else . . .
Or else I give in or worse, or else I explode in a sense and jump down the throats of the people I love the most. And put simply, they do not deserve it. No one does. So I defend them (and myself) by playing a game called visualization.

Life got off to a different start today, which means my usual position is out of sorts. This means I had to wing it today, which is not how I like to spend my morning. But either way, life is life and here we are on the great conveyor belt called Project Earth. Know what that means? It means either way, rain or shine, happy or not, we still have a race to run.