A drive down the street proves the point: uncharacteristic darkness within businesses and schools and traffic is lighter even at rush hour. The state has shut down. People have been commanded to stay inside their houses, and if they walk outside, they need to keep six feet away from anyone who passes. The only place I’ve been in the last week is the grocery store, which sports barren shelves and overworked employees. My kids are annoyed, and despite their indifference toward school, it’s a place they’d rather be right now. And our hands. How many times can we wash our hands? Wipe down the counters? The doorknobs? If a tickle forms in my throat, does that mean I have the virus?

But this morning, I awoke to the call of a bird outside my bedroom window. Laying there with my eyes closed, I simply listened. And the call came again and again and again.

A noise that reverberated in my head and brought a smile to my face.

A noise that whispered, just wait, we’ll get through this.

A new beginning.

A sound full of promise and hope.

Picture of a sparrow by Gabicuz at Pixabay.com.

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