One of these days, the morning will dawn in a world where all this will have happened.
One of these days, we will go back to our lives, no longer sheltering in place or wearing protective gear and masks to leave our homes. One of these days we’ll be back to putting on our makeup, hair, dressing, and a night out to the theater, soaking up all the glorious laughter and chatter of being in a room full of people, unafraid of what might be conveyed. One more day, we will celebrate a special occasion in an exclusive restaurant, surrounded too closely by other diners, but we will not care. One of these days we will host dinner parties and put our arms around and hug each and every person who walks into our house.
One of these days, we will look back with a mixture of sadness, relief, anger, and fear at this entire horrible, upsetting, and devastating period.
Unfortunately, that day is not yet.
It will not be as far as we fear, nor as soon as we would prefer.
But it’s coming; as surely as the sun will rise and the winds will blow and the stars will shine; approaches To paraphrase TS Elliot, that instant he will land not with a bang, but with a groan; subtly, slowly, surreptitiously making his presence known. In the same way, one cannot really see a flower open, but can recognize its beauty when it blooms, that time is blooming even now.
And when it does, what will you do to commemorate its arrival?
me You will once again experience joy in the little things. I will no longer social distance or self-isolate, but instead will smile broadly when someone, anyone, passes me on the sidewalk. I no longer have to clean everything with sanitary napkins, I’ll drop my ass on any park bench I want or hang from their jungle gym, unafraid of what I might catch. I will enjoy the background noise and chatter of a crowded mall. I will stand within six feet when queuing at the grocery store and I will not be afraid to handle cash when I pay.
I will see in the eyes of each person I meet or pass along the way the scars and pain of our shared experience.. I’ll know we’re together, even if we don’t know each other’s names. We share history and trauma. We are survivors and very aware of that community; a band of brothers who never served together but emerged from battle, we are one. That thinking will remain at the forefront.
I will hug myself over and over and over and over again until my arms ache and my face aches from crying tears of happiness and reunion. To family and friends whom I have only heard or seen through technology, I will embrace you with acknowledgment of how relieved I am to be together again. It may take a little longer, but I will rejoice in the feeling of those I love held close to me, almost not wanting to let go. I will smother them with kisses and hold their heads against mine and tell them how much I missed them and how deep is my love for them. And then I’ll do it all over again.
Above all, I will be grateful.
I will cry tears of joy without shame. I’ll appreciate little glimpses of banality more than I ever thought I could. I will refrain from complaining about boring work assignments or tedious chores outside at home. I will welcome your worldliness.
I will thank the untold millions of people who watched over us during our darkest times.– Those who kept our supply chains open and those who treated us during the disease at great risk to themselves. Some I will die but I will never forget them.
Every day I breathe, I will stand tall outside in the renewed, virus-free atmosphere, arms outstretched, facing the sun, grinning like a fool., and with every healthy cell of my being, I thank the Universe, God, Eternal Spirit for allowing me a day on this planet where I can praise my life force and its resilience and the breath that fills my lungs and the blood that pumps through from my heart. I am alive and there is no greater gift than that. I will never, ever take that for granite.
That day may be in the distant horizon, but I will start my practice right now.
