The news, the universe, this moment. Is more surreal. Unbearable. Confusing. Heartbreaking. Painful. Difficult. Tragic. Not – of this world.

My inclination, more and more, is to look ahead. Beyond. Into the future. To wonder. Speculate. Worry.

When – more then ever – I need to stay here. Right now. Present. Focused. Adapting. Accepting.

My patience is more apt to be tested.

My daughter’s 12-year-oldness, more supremely annoying. (Has she always been this annoying?)

My son’s frustration more…uncomfortable.

I am – more – tried. To the bone.

And, yet.

The breeze blowing through my open window is more – symbolic. Of Spring. Movement. Freedom. Open-ness. Connection – to the outside world.

The view from the top of Sun Mountain is more clear. Sparkly. Still. The glimpse from above of the school campus my daughter will be attending next year more a vision of hope. A symbol of a new beginning. A time – different – from right now.

“The breeze blowing through my open window is more – symbolic. Of Spring. Movement. Freedom. Open-ness. Connection – to the outside world.”

The unspecific meals we’ve been eating and the basics that fill my cabinets – beans, rice, oatmeal – feel more like a beautiful abundant bounty.

The melodic music on my playlists touches my soul more – sharply. And yet, like a balm.

Virginia Woolf – To The Lighthouse – which I am reading to discuss with friends – is more profound. Perfect. Brilliant. Even more so then when I first read it in college. And, was in desperate need of Virginia Woolf and her stylistic writing, thinking, and strength in her subtle, yet powerful and important observations. About human relations. The intellect. And this life. Our life.

Those friends – who I am discussing Virginia Woolf with – our sisterhood of four – are more of a softer place to land. Through email, text, and Zoom – we validate each other, support one another, and hold space for our challenges and beautiful moments. The connection, more then what I could have imagined when we unexpectedly discovered our bond one memorable night out together.

I feel Bee Hive is more important. Necessary. Relevant. Then ever. To be of service to the community that has supported and loved the store – more of a gift then ever during a time when libraries and schools are closed. Each day that my distributors continue to ship books and UPS and Fed Ex continue to deliver them – more of a sigh of relief. Though I continue to hold my breath. And hope. And pray. More.

Though it is quiet, everywhere. My rare and precious moments of peace and stillness are, more and more, the restoration that keeps me going. To stop referreeing. Reinventing. Restructuring. Reasoning. Rolling with it. To put my guard down. Stop washing my hands. Moving out of the way of others. And, being in constant protection mode of my children, the Bee Hive, myself, and the world that once was. That place. That place of calm. Is what fuels me. For more.

And, more. Gratitude. For the opportunity to go another round. After this one. Because, there will be another round. I have no idea what it will look like. Or, when it will be. Or, how we will get there.

But, my thought is – it will be…

More.