The swampy pit is now a veritable lake. The Earth's crust breached, giant rocks adorn the edges of the water. The only sign of life is the neon yellow vests operating CAT and surveying the work with poised grunt. Not a snapper to be seen. A golden mess of straw lines the muddy edge. I had almost forgotten what that lighting could look like what with our onslaught of gloomy days. The neon vests are almost done covering up their mess. My entertainment will come to an end. I suppose there is always the news... If I want a more dismal source of occupation. Would you rather be a snapping turtle with your mucky home unstuck? Or would you rather be governed by the squalid few who ignore their people gone amok?
Freedom is not having a single thing to do. It is the lightness of having no cloud looming overhead nagging a to-do list in your ear. It is pouring your favorite iced drink and sitting outside and listening to the birds whistle, “lookuphere lookuphere lookuphere,” and “drinkyourtea tea tea.” Ten weeks. This is no longer temporary. I don’t want to wait to begin enjoying life again. I want to enjoy Now. I’m not interested in ignoring reality or pretending that things don’t suck tremendously. I am interested in relishing the small things that bring happiness. I like the way chalk feels soft and powdery on my fingers. I love the cool refreshing taste of peach iced tea. Unsweetened, in case you want to know which side I’m on. The rustling of the wind in the leaves makes me smile. Oliver covered in peach and yellow chalk makes me giggle. Dancing an Irish jig to the fiddle for the whole neighborhood to see is invigorating. Freedom is being alive to enjoy the life we are given. Freedom
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