The Coronacation Diaries, Episode 96

A Lot on my Mind

Tonight I have a lot on my mind and nothing is floating to the top. It's been a long day of facilitating tough conversations and sorting data on the side.

Michael and I are outside, stoking the fire for marshmallows later, drinking hard seltzer, listening. The baby birds in the bird house are chirping angrily because we we are daring to sit near them on the patio. Their mama bird darts in occasionally with another snack, but the babies are hangry.

Sam has a friend over from a family in our quarantine circle, a long-delayed sleepover planned months ago. I pitched the tent for them; they built a blanket fort inside. We grilled hotdogs in the chimenea on the patio. Now the boys are inside the air-conditioned house, watching a Star Wars movie.

A family down the hill has a squealing child, running around the yard. Traffic on the road behind us is loud and constant, waves of engine and tire noise. Jet Skis are on the lake, slapping the water and revving their engines over and over and over as they cross and re-cross each other's paths. Somewhere, a bass line is thumping in the distance. A child's voice keeps insisting, "stop! stop! stop!" And the birds are still chirping, their bird house rocking back and forth.

Sometimes, it's easy to forget how different everything is in our world right now. Sometimes, it's easy to forget all of the hard conversations that need to constantly happen, if we are ever going to change our country. On evenings like these, we can just sit in the moment, listening to the birds' consternation. Michael is too close to the bird house. Mama bird is not happy.

If I close my social media tabs, the ignorance disappears. It's just us, sitting here by the fire, on a Friday night in June.

The boys paused the movie and are now roasting great flaming marshmallow torches.

The child down the hill stopped squealing. Mama bird finally fed her babies.

I reopen that Facebook tab and push back on the ignorance some more.