After over a year of quarantine, I finally left my house to receive my first vaccine shot. (Thankfully, hubby and I were able to make appointments together and my first excursion into the great outdoors wasn't by myself.)
How strange it was to put shoes on! And, after 54+ weeks of wearing only my “comfy” clothes, (surprise!) my jeans miraculously still fit! I emerged from my house like a newborn giraffe, my legs wobbly, my eyes wide with wonder.
The world outside my little bubble is fast-moving. Cars whizz by in a hurry to make the next stoplight, strangers walk by each other on the street (without wearing a mask). A group of people is gathered around a kiosk offering free cell phones (to my horror, none were wearing masks either). I'm quickly reminded of why I've chosen to stay home and not take any risks. I'm thankful I've had the luxury.
Signs of spring are everywhere. There are little pops of yellow and purple wildflowers growing along the street and between cracks in the sidewalk. The sun seems a lot brighter when it's not being filtered through my windows. Life goes on the same way it has been for the last year while I’ve been indoors.
I am shaky and unsure, nervous and anxious, but I am finally making the first step toward what I hope will be a somewhat normal life again.
There's the word that has been eluding me.
Hope.
For the first time in over a year, I feel hope. It's a strange sensation this feeling of being able to see beyond my four walls. To venture beyond my imagination again. I like it. I’m encouraged by it.
And inspired for the first time in a long, long while...
🎕
