It was the summer of heat and fireflies and of course, the virus. It was the summer of anger and divides and anonymous faces behind paper masks.

Maybe it had happened before but I dont remember it. Tonight I sat in my garden and watched the heat lightning in the distance and wondered if there would be thunder later.

I read a book recently about an ancient tribe who marked their years with whatever the major happening was and this was how they recorded history.  “The year of the flood.” “The year of the births..” etc.

And so I thought it made sense to me to do so.

It has been heat and  fear …and yes fireflies.

The news showed videos of people screaming in each others faces and pepper spray and bullhorns. Glass breaking and gunshots. Are we really that far apart now?