Whether I’m headed to Mass, to teach class, to perform Juliet, or write an article, what I always ask when I wake up remains the same: “Wait. What day is it?” Of course, what I’m really asking is: “What do I need to do today?” Which really means, “What am I supposed to wear today?” Which is related to: “Who am I going to see today?” and “Where am I going today?” and “How will I get there?” and “Does it look like rain?” and “Yes, but where shall we eat?” All of which is to say, I begin each morning with structure. Or used to. I really miss structure. I miss knowing what day it is.
1:44 PM
The Last Day We Hugged Each Other
I started counting the days since anyone had touched me: back in March, a friend hugged me good-bye. The day before my world collapsed. At least we hugged each other. What day was that? No idea. What month, then? March. That was March. Then April came. The churches closed. This was … June? July? What day is it? What month is it? At least I know the year.
Emily C. A. Snyder

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