Naptime is a mountain of climbing stairs checking in finding friends reading stories, again getting into bed, and arranging things just so an interrupted song a sweet cuddle
And at the top, you forgot was there, one last drink of water
Until finally, rolling softly down the other side, a sweet whisper in your ear
I pour myself out in drips and drops to make room to get through the day to hold my child when he cries because the tv came on to search other people’s words for something I need
Until finally it is dark, and empty of all but despair the world fills me up again with grief and longing
Everyday we wake We put breakfast on our plates We move our bodies, reluctantly We urge tiny bodies to follow the routine When all they want is to be held close All we want is to be held close
The days are long. The tiniest things make us sad and irritable and bring tears. But we are learning. We eat breakfast, we do yoga, we play tag, we draw together.
I want to be in the empty space, to see the city, but I don’t think it will be empty enough.
It’s hard to reconcile all the scenarios that are possible right now. I have forgotten to call mom.
What do I write here for the sake of history?
14 days
14 times the earth has spun around
And the birds have spent 14 days gathering twigs for their nests
The tulips have spent 14 days growing yellow buds
My hands have spent 14 days washing, cooking, holding close
14 times the sun has risen
And my mind has spent 1000 lifetimes in the world to come
While my breath waits, frozen, for time to start again
the blue sky holds space for us even the clouds are in quarantine
Schools are closed for 6 weeks. We are still in limbo, standing on a plane with so many possible futures laid out before us. Some are still hopeful. The Earth at least is getting a rest, too.
Already we are getting better at not wasting food.
Work continues. Trying to find a routine.
It snowed today My brain is imagining entire lifetimes in the pauses between things
Remember to slow down