It's raining outside in Tucker right now. I'm fortunate enough to have a large enough house and yard to expand my home office to the outdoors. When it's nice, I move to the back patio where the budding March trees create my roof. When it's raining, I can go to the garage, open the door and look out at the empty street of my neighborhood.
Today, it's the latter. But it's also cold, so I can feel myself draining into the air around me, like steam released into the firmament.
I'm sad today. It's probably the rain. Although it could be the 800 cases of coronavirus in Georgia that have popped up since I checked last night. Or it could be the 20 more people that have died.
I suppose grief will probably be the overwhelming feeling most of us take away from this. Grief for those we will lose. Grief for the months (or years) that are washing away like tiny sand castles. Grief for a future we all thought we were promised. Grief for missed graduations, proms, appointments, work pitches, business dreams deferred, the endless stream of missed funerals.
The not being able to say goodbye.
That's the the one that saddens me the most. The not being able to say goodbye.
But for now I have no goodbyes to say. It's just raining, and I'm sad. In the end, I'm sure both will pass.