I was minding my own business, trying to enjoy my coffee and a few moments of peace before starting my day.

And then it happened.

I was watching the Today Show—a bit about Drew Brees’s donation to help fight the devastation of Covid-19—when Hoda Kotb crashed through the television screen and shoved a rusty knife against my neck.  Her accomplice, Savannah Guthrie, stood off to the side—glassy-eyed, but watchful—making sure I didn’t make a run for it.

They had me cornered and I—a well-planned, cautious, control freak—never saw it coming.

Hoda pressed her face against mine, violating our new social distancing ethos.  “Don’t move,” she whispered.  “Give me all your feelings.”

I had no choice.  So I cried.

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Savoring my morning coffee and a few quiet moments before facing whatever awaits me on this day, I find myself staring at our back door.  I’d left it open after letting the dogs out to run.

(Yes, it was me.  I let the dogs out.)

We live in my wife’s grandparents’ old house. They built this place in the 1950’s. One of them—Laura’s grandfather—even died here, slipping peacefully into that next life after another busy day at the hospital.  He was a doctor.  A healer.  In more ways than one.

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