Dear 2020
You caught me off guard
smack in the middle of my complacency
and first-world problems.
Like the early stages of grief, at first
I denied you. This can’t be real. But if so,
it will only last a week or so.
Since then, I’ve been wearing you like a sweater
soaked by rain, like a stone settled in my heart.
You’re forcing me to think, feel, prioritize.
It’s December now. We are still
reeling and dealing with your
stubborn (almost comical) insistence
on testing our patience, our tolerance,
our trust or lack thereof.
But don’t go thinking you’re winning!
You’re giving my faith a thrill ride (better
than Disney, or Netflix) as I anticipate
the good, the growth, and the
redemption ahead.
I see glimpses already as my compassion
stretches and my heart is pried open
in brand new ways.
Your days are numbered, 2020.
With any luck, I’ll look back on you
fondly, despite it all. Or maybe even
because of it all.
