Day ? of the plague.

A wild storm blew through this afternoon, not caring a bit for our little concerns, even so.

A dear friend put everything aside to care for a very difficult elderly relative, in spite of everything.

Oh, the irony of this Plague at Passover. I’m not Jewish, but I honor the longing for liberation, for release, and along with my Jewish brothers and sisters, I commit to extending my hand to those in slavery of any kind, symbolized by Passover, even so.

And, on that theme, I’m invited to a virtual Passover seder and I’m told G*D and my Jewish friends-and-relations will forgive me for using pickled ginger for the horseradish, and bread I made myself (toasted) for the matzoh, since we can’t get any, in spite of everything.

And more… how grateful I am to Old York Cellars for bringing us a Passover meal when no grocery stores would deliver, even so.

My writer friends, who had signed on to teach virtual classes during this difficult time, are incredibly gracious now that they’ve had to be put on hold due to this f*cking virus, in spite of everything.

And finally, this is the weekend when my family and I remember the suicides of my brothers, Bernie and Ronnie, and we still stand, we still love each other, we’re still here, even so.

Be well and safe, my beloveds. Stay in touch.