A friend sent this to me and it piqued my interest… from the New York Times:

_{The Pandemic in Six-Word Memoirs}

By Larry Smith

Since 2006, I’ve been challenging people to describe their lives in six words, a form I call the six-word memoir — a personal twist on the legendary six-word story attributed to Ernest Hemingway: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

I’ve found that some of the most memorable six-word stories arise in the extremes — during our toughest and most joyous moments. So over the past several months, I’ve asked adults and children around the country to use the form to make sense of this moment in history: one person, one story, and six words at a time.

Not a criminal, but running masked.
— Stella Kleinman

Every day’s a bad hair day.
— Leigh Giza

Home ec: rationing butter, bourbon, sanity.
— Christine Triano

Can’t smell the campfire on Zoom.
— Melanie Abrams

Messy hair, messy room, messy thoughts.
— Lily Herman

Read every book in the house.
— Francesca Gomez-Novy

Never-ending, but boredom doesn’t faze me.
— Lily Gold

Won scrabble; smile breaks through mask.
— Abby Ellin

This is what time looks like.
— Sylvia Sichel

Avoiding death, but certainly not living.
— Sydney Reimann

Social distancing myself from the fridge.
— Maria Leopoldo

Cleaned Lysol container with Lysol wipe.
— Alex Wasser

Hallway hike, bathtub swim, Pandora concert.
— Susan Evind

Numbers rise, but sun does too.
— Paloma Lenz

Afraid of: snakes, heights, opening schools.
— Michelle Wolff

The world has never felt smaller.
— Maggie Smith

~~~

So… I tried one:

Reality resented. Solutions invented. Gratitude cemented.

~~~

This post needs a picture:

This picture: first, it shows that the plants went into the ground today. Big day in the continuing backyard saga. I’m dying to get out there and get all fussy — pick leaves out of the rock beds, collect twigs, tidy things up. I’m actually kind of excited.

Secondly, looking carefully, you’ll see my face in the glass looking out. There’s prolly a great pandemic metaphor in there somewhere. I could massage the image metaphor to fit my 6-word pandemic story above. Or not.

I’ll leave it at that.