I find myself wanting to write a story. Wondering what the point of all of this is, so I can tell the story that leads to that glorious end. But I am lost in the present. Nothing can sum it up. It feels disjointed. Things come to mind — covid giving us the guts to follow of dreams, us needing a break, life moving too fast and too divergent from our values, leaning into virtual school and making it our own, our collective love of nature…But it all falls so short. And on the other end of the spectrum, there are a number of stories with potentially negative, crazy, or irresponsible endings I could tell. Yet again, I get lost in the present… in the unknowing of the future. For safety, for security, I try to grasp, I try to tell a story. But I am in it, living it. Maybe I’ll have the birds eye view at some point, like snapshots you get at your highest bounce on the trampoline. But for now, I will smell the fresh air, lean in close to a snuggling baby, answer the litany of inquisitive minds’ questions, and get the next meal on the table.