It is not the time to post what I had written, ready to go. As another writer says, it all seems so banal, my pen has dried up in the face of it all. Waking up early, the sun finally out after devastating rains, and today, the day our masks can come off, the birds singing, slow movements of premature spring and my granddaughter playing with her scooter up and down the hallway, it all feels possible.