It’s a rainy gloomy day where I sit. One of those that allows for thoughts to wander, feelings to percolate, body to absorb. There has been a lot in 2020; personally, locally, nationally, globally. Everywhere and everyone. No one exempt. It’s surreal to think back on the Super Bowl and the divisional and championship games leading up to it. The comebacks of epic proportions. The play-off curses exhaled into non-existence. The 50 year drought coming to an end. Exuberance for a Mahomestown hero. The very real possibility of a dynasty unfolding right before our eyes. Here locally, in my city, 2020 was hella awesome for a minute.

Personally, though, feels like a lifetime ago we sat in a courtroom, financially insolvent; small business bankrupt. A place you never dreamed of sitting yet somehow relieved to be there because it marked not only the end, but the beginning. Moving on. Releasing all, including your pride. Hopeful that while one chosen path proved abysmal, the next will be rewarding. Yeah, same month as the Super Bowl, so, you know, 1 out of 2 ain’t bad.

And since I’m such a sports junkie, I can’t help but frame the beginning of our nation-wide shutdown from my seat on the couch, ready to launch Hoop Mamas everywhere into our favorite annual sporting event. Because this year (2020 again) the number one overall college basketball team in the nation was my team. Azubuike was unstoppable and we were going to reunite that gentle giant with his momma in Atlanta where she would watch him cut down the nets. Until we weren’t. Because we couldn’t. No one could; and the biggest freaking roar of “what the’s” the sports’ world has ever heard went ringing throughout the land. From every region of every sport on every level, one by one by one we watched them go. Not just postponed, but gone. It was unprecedented.

Then reality started kicking in that this was serious, gravely so, and action other than lamenting the losses was needed. The vulnerable among us were, well, vulnerable, and as a collection of humanity, we had to step up. We had to stay home. Or go home. We left universities and schools and stores and eateries and airports and parks like vacant ghost towns. Remnants of a life once lived. We did this for others, which was good for us, because life is not always about us. 2020 for the Global Reminder win.

In the meantime we discovered our new favorite thing and Zoomed into action on all fronts. Business meetings, church services, workout sessions, classroom instruction, wedding showers, happy hours. You name it, we zoomed it. I’ve had enough of it to last a lifetime! On the nice spring days, we walked. Or ran. Or biked. It was exhilarating to see so much physical activity every time you stepped outside. Almost like the good life we forgot we could have. Of course, if the good life included venturing out alone, earbuds securely implanted, eyes fixed on any human about to enter your 6 foot radius, so you could gauge their next move then as nonchalantly as possible, step aside into a berm or wander into the vacant street or even run up a grassy hillside into someone’s yard if necessary. It was Norman Rockwell-esque, is my point.

With this massive societal pause came extra time for social media. Like, it’s embarrassing how much extra. I’d joined Twitter at the start of the year and kept it all sports, all the time. No politics, no celebrities, no nothing but that which brought me joy. But you know how that goes. Other stuff slips in. Sure enough, I found myself reading thread after thread about Ahmaud Arbery. This poor kid. As aforementioned, the whole nation is moving their bodies to the beat of their own drum outdoors. Are you informing me, Twitter, that one can’t stop and absent-mindedly look inside a house under construction because one is probably bored out of their mind and then continue with said run without being chased down and murdered because one is now a “presumed burglar”? Well let me just tell you, Twitter, what I did. I took pictures on my phone along various walking routes, of outdoor living spaces and decks that I’d like for the back of my house. Pictures. Of other people’s homes. Without their permission. Where were my neighborhood watch accusers? How do they know I wasn’t casing these homes for future burglaries? (I mean, I did just declare bankruptcy.) This made me crazy that I could do and Ahmaud could not. So I walked 2.23 miles in his honor. Mostly I walked for his mom, because it was mother’s day weekend and my heart hurt for her since she will bear this most unbearable burden the remainder of her days.

But that was just the start of Twitter’s betrayal.

Along comes tweets about Amy Cooper. I’m not going to pile on as I’m sure she’s legitimately sorry for her behavior if for no other reason she must now own it in some way. But man, what shameful things we do when we feel so entitled. Lord, help me. Help my pride not to hinder my ability to be corrected when I’m wrong. Help my defensiveness not to override my common sense when I’m called out for actions that hurt others. We could talk a long while about Amy’s racism, but let’s start with her defiance. That, we recognize; and most of us can acknowledge “Aw, hell no” or whatever it is we say when challenged, leads to worlds of regret.

2020, smh.

But today, what really has me somber, is George Floyd’s live-feed murder. I obviously didn’t watch it live but with technology, it sure feels like I did. I made myself watch the whole gruesome video twice. There aren’t words for what I witnessed. A man … a living, breathing human being, asking politely for more breath, denied. No anger. No accusation. Sweet almost. Humble definitely. Please, sir, I can’t breathe.

Isn’t this the exact same fear gripping the world right now? What we watched in real time happen to George Floyd is what COVID-19 does over days or weeks which is, makes it impossible to breathe. And hasn’t each citizen on the planet taken drastic measures to avoid this horrific, lung-suffocating virus? The dichotomy. That one would deprive a life of its breath because of an alleged forged 20 dollars, as the world sets trillions on fire to save the breath of a faceless humanity.

I know it wasn’t because of the 20 dollars. Or the burglaries. Or the dog leash. I know they had black faces, which to some, made them expendable.

But what I don’t know is what to do. So I’m writing, which I’ve not had the motivation to do in quite some time. Too consumed with myself. My hard life. My stuck place. My perceived insignificance. My “what’s next” overriding my right now. Pandemic was nice for me in that regard. Everyone entered the boat I’d placed myself in. Going nowhere for now. Nobody getting ahead if everybody held up. Made me feel less like an outlier and more like a participant. And I’m a group gal so feeling apart of something has always been huge for me. {Enter: love of team sports.}

I’d only ever experienced watching a soul leave its body once before, with my Grandma Pauline. Fellow family members and I encamped around her bed, singing her favorite hymns until she passed peacefully into the next life. It was heartbreaking, yet dignified. Gut-wrenching, yet poignant. I thought of that night while I watched George Floyd die. Thought about how his family was reliant on strangers to capture the final minutes of his life on their phones, helpless to offer even a modicum of grace.

He had a kind face, though, that George Floyd, even as he lay dying. I’ll never forget it because it awakened something in me. His quiet pleading whispered to me that my life matters. I see the irony, and yet, it’s true. It’s not the accomplishments or the accolades, the followers or the platforms, the job description or the salary, the dreams fulfilled or the ones long abandoned.

It’s breath that makes life. It’s so simple.

Isn’t the entire world at a reset? Can’t we rewrite the metrics on what is deemed valuable? Can’t we lean in to our own discomfort at how the world, the nation, our cities, our lives have not worked, and start anew? Can’t we be as sober minded about these actions as we would be if say, a worldwide pandemic threatened all of humanity?  Oh wait… I guess it’s time then.

Not even June yet, 2020. What else you got?