It's been a little over a year since the pandemic hit the U.S., since cities shut down, since Princeton shut down, since the archives shut down, since we realized that life was going to be very different for a while--for how long a while, none of us knew for sure.
I remember how strange it was to see the beginnings of spring--of daffodils, green buds, of cherry blossoms--juxtaposed with everything closing up; with death and sickness and fear.
A year later, with spring in the air again, things feel different. A few nights ago, Sam and I ate outdoors at a restaurant, felt the warming spring air around us, and saw how others around us--seated outside at the restaurant, passerby on the street--seemed so much more relaxed than a year ago, than a month ago. There are changes coming, and I hope that there are good things ahead for all of us.
"there's a hope in every new seed
and every flower that grows upon the earth [. . .]
I'll come back to you in a year or so
and rebuild, ready to become
the person you believed in,
the person that you used to love." --noah and the whale, "the first day of spring"
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