Looks a lot like a photo I took just a few days ago... same spot, same mug, same shirt.

But not the same me.

Five-days-ago me was burning out with a smile on my face, had taken a mental health day from work, still figured the relative safety of a vaccination was weeks, if not months, away.

Meanwhile, thirteen-months-ago me had just headed home for the weekend, taking along the spare work laptop “just in case anything changed” with the developing virus situation. And then never went back except to pick up some extra gear and a chair for a quickly improvised home office.

What a difference a few days can make.

Me today, me right now? I’m still processing. Hard. No smile and no tears in this photo. But I know, bubbling right under the surface, there is joy and relief and sadness and grief, and hope and caution and gratitude and disbelief.

I also see even more clearly now, as I begin to ponder the continuing flood from behind my newly laid wall of sandbags, that I have not been “living in fear” but rather with the simple recognition of a very real danger, one that I could not fight alone, and for such a long time could not really fight at all. My only option, before today, was to retreat to the high ground of distancing and masks, and not get in the way of the front line workers trying to keep my community above water.

This picture too looks a lot the same... the same flood, the same danger, the same concern and vigilance that for more than a year has driven me and drained me.

But not the same me.

Today, I too get to start pushing back at the floodwaters.

Today, gratitude reigns.