Note: I started writing this in March of 2020 when I couldn’t yet imagine how long this pandemic would go on. I stopped writing it in May.
There’s a park behind our house. The play structures are cordoned off, the toddler area is padlocked, the basketball hoops are shuttered, but the field is still open.
There’s a woman who goes to the field now, every day. She sword-fights with her two boys using sticks and metal trash can lids. She didn’t do that before.
Now my kids play together. They are 6 years apart.
Now, I take a mid-day walk. I say “thank you for your service” when I pass a mail carrier or delivery person.
Now, we make bread.
Our weekends are quiet now, and a little bit sad.
Now, we talk about gratitude.
Now, my son can ride a bike.
Now, we do puzzles.
We make more bread.
We fall apart. Come In Bear started it.
Instead of school we burn leaves with a magnifying glass and paint the driveway.
Now a child sick. We know it’s anxiety but call the doctor anyhow.
My heart feels funny.
We’re ok.
Now it is spring.
We fall apart again. It’s not Bear’s fault.
Now I put on a mask and drive to CVS for Easter candy. I think I may have forgotten how to drive, just a little bit.
CVS is stupid, why did I go there so often before?
It’s been a month since we came inside. Now we have a curfew.
I say “thank you for your service” to a mail carrier during my lunchtime walk. He has earbuds in and he can’t see me smile because of my mask, I hope he got the gist of my wave.
Now we sanitize our groceries.
We skip school and make a bow and arrow. Or, we do schoolwork at 9pm.
We sleep so late. Except me, who still has work.
People lament online about having to clean their own homes. I think “hello from the other side” and then feel like a bad person because I know I’m just jealous.
My heart still feels funny.
Now masks are mandatory.
We fall apart on Wednesdays. And Thursdays.
We have half-birthday parties, because why not?
My kids are freckled and sun-kissed, it’s only April.
I prefer a bandit-style mask.
My bread game is excellent.
I am a bread bandit.
I feel like nature is fighting back. As if to prove me right, it snows in May.
On Mother’s Day, I say: “Don’t endanger your lives going out to get me something. You know all I want is for everyone to be nice to me.”
I make gifts for the moms in my life deliver them on foot. I like these gifts better than the store-bought kind.
After 8 weeks my kids are willing to take walks with me. I think they are getting nicer.
Now my kids are expert social-distancers, sometimes militant.
There’s no end in sight.
I can’t wait for hugs. I’m going to hug the hell out of people.