Dystopian

Herself speaks.

Things are weird.

Traffic is so much lighter, especially around the closed schools. The sound of a helicopter overhead while I am out walking the dogs is surprisingly ominous. I am afraid to touch anyone (which, I will admit, is a discomfort I carried around long before COVID-19, that is merely being amplified by the current situation.) And I desperately long to be touched.

Did I fall into a dystopian novel?  I feel almost like we are living through the times that would have occurred prior to the narrative in The Handmaid's Tale. How will we look back onto these moments, in two months, two years?

I do not have the ability to imagine (or to control) how things will unfold. All I can do is try to prepare for the unknown, and to hope for the best.

The only solution at the moment: to bake zucchini bread, while I currently have eggs in the house.