A Pandemic Is Not A Snowstorm
Those middle-of-the-night epiphanies? If you can remember them - which is always a big "if" - they often don't have the same resonance in the daylight that they carried in the wee small hours of the night.
The Bluest Sky
I was feeling rather smug that morning.
I stood on the tee box of the seventh hole, under the bluest sky I’d seen in some time, the crisp early fall air like a tonic in my lungs. And I was playing my brains out – 2 strokes over par after the first six holes of a nine hole golf tournament.