By Dawne Belloise It’s the first week of spring and the sky unleashed the copious amounts of snow that it stingily withheld from us all winter. As I stare numbly out the window, I catch an unrecognizable reflection of a disheveled elderly woman vacantly gazing past me. It is as much of a surreal moment as is the entire world being on lockdown and it snaps me back into self realization – what day is this? How long have I been in this house? When did I comb my hair last and how long have I been living in these ...
