IT'S BEEN A WHILE . . .

Gosh, I hadn't realized how long it's been since I've written on this blog. This used to be my only blog. I think here is where I add how I really feel about things, good or bad. I hope there is mostly good here.

I'm retiring on July 1.

I hope that means I'll be able to write more. So many thoughts go through my mind, I wish it was tethered to my blogs.

I think about my kids, my purpose, my friends, my extended family--and my granddaughter, Mila. Since the COVID-19 virus hit the planet, it has stymied my ability to see her, and my children.

The last time we got together as a family was the Sunday before my birthday in March. I had just been on FMLA due to another ankle surgery in February, and my first day back was supposed to be March 15.

Lo, and behold, March 15 was the first day of quarantine. My community is now in a "yellow" zone, meaning we can go places, but need to wear a face mask and stay six feet apart from everyone.

Just last week, we celebrated Tim's birthday. I decided to go. I hadn't gone to Zannah's birthday two weeks before and regretted it. I'm over 60 and have asthma, so am considered a "high risk" person.

While at Zannah's for Tim's birthday, I realized our trip back east in July was not going to happen. Maine is very restricted. You have to stop on the highway and give the authorities your phone number so they can check to make sure you're quarantining for 14 days. Well, we couldn't do that. And we couldn't do anything if we went, except stay in Jamely's house and order door dash for a week. No lighthouses, no beaches, no nothing.

I didn't want to spend the whole 12 days in Pennsylvania--they are restrictive, too--so I decided to wait until we do this big trip all over again next year. The Hill Cumorah Pageant was the impetus of our plans. It was postponed--the very last one--until next year.

I hope and pray we can all be together as a family next year. Please, God, let this pandemic pass.