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Many have said to me, "It must be so good to be home and back to normal." Yes, it is so good to be back home, that we have a home to return to. But nothing is normal. It won't be the same again. We return to a new normal.
My new normal is sitting on my backyard swing while ashes fall from the sky all around me.
My new normal is walking down the street wearing a face mask, and a face-masked stranger passing by in his car flashes me a peace sign and nods.
My new normal is waking up and checking my Air Quality Index app.
My new normal is waffling between releasing flying monkeys and mercy missions to broken and hurting neighbors.
My new normal is tip-toeing around rabbit pooplets left behind by two free-range bunnies, and my son remarking, "It's like a game! Step on a poop and you're out!"
My new normal is coming face-to-face with my raw, untapped emotions, a startling and healing Heinz 57 assortment, divergent yet homogeneous.
My new normal is waking up with a trembling inside.
My new normal is extending more kindness, more mercy, more grace, more forgiveness, more agape love to anyone who needs it. Just...more.
My new normal is finding ashes in my shoes and coffee mug and not being surprised by it.
My new normal is saying what needs to be said NOW.
My new normal is cherishing my family and farm far above my earthly possessions.
My new normal is experiencing the Christmas I have yearned to have for years, where we give unconditionally, not desiring anything in return, because...we...get...it. Finally.
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