Alternative Title: The Kids Are Not Alright
As I garden outside, I can hear the kids in neighboring yards playing.
One little girl, whose voice I know particularly well because every once in a while she calls out, “Good morning!” to show how well she can speak in English, whether or not it’s the morning doesn’t matter, she’s crying.
And she’s not the only one.
But first the news:
- Eggsellent suggestions: Seven ways to celebrate Easter from home
- Criminal Cases Could be Handled on Nights, Weekends to Catch Up on Court Delays
- The Amsterdam-Amstelland safety region intervenes and closes dozens of play areas [Dutch]
The kids are done with their ‘vacations’.
They miss their friends. They miss their teachers. They miss school.
They miss normal.
And this is completely normal.
The thing is, we’re the same.
We’re just as fucked up.
Sure, we’re not crying on the outside, but we’re definitely howling on the inside.
Maybe it would help if we, like the kids, cried it out a bit.
If we at least wrote it out and otherwise vented that frustration and anxiety and change and weirdness and anger.
It might help.
A little bit.
At least for me.
Do you have something you do, Warriors? Does it work?
Are you okay?