My Dad died when he was 51. Way to young and too soon. When I think of him, he is 51. He hasn’t aged. I cannot picture him with gray or white hair. I cannot picture him old.
My Mom will always be 75. We were fortunate to have her as long as we did. Although, I sure would have loved more years with her.
The people from my high school yearbook for the most part are still 17-18. They haven’t changed in my mind since the last time I saw them as we walked across the football field to “Pomp and Circumstance”. Out of our Senior Class of around 300 students, I haven’t seen more than about 10% of them since graduation.
You might be wondering where I am heading with this train of thought?
I was talking to Jenn about when we might get back to going to the office. It could be months or never.
Who knows.
Jenn said maybe just to pack my things.
And that is when I started to think how strange the office must look.
Desk and wall calendars left on March.
My planner still open to March 13th.
The Saint Patrick’s Day tree still decorated in my office
Easter decorations sitting in a bag by my desk.
Dust collecting over everything.
The bottle of coffee creamer that has long since expired.
And rows and rows of deserted desks.
Empty hallways.
The break room and conference room not in use.
No cars in the parking lot.
Like a ghost town.
Our lives have been frozen too.
Staring week 16 of working from home.
Leaving the house once a week.
Always having a mask in my pocketbook.
The new normal.
The pandemic has tuned our world upside down.
And to think I thought things couldn’t get worse or more challenging.
Boy was I wrong.
See you next week.
In case you are wondering how Jeter is making out during this work and stay at home time.
He is stressed to the max.
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