Friday, March 20, 2020
Air hits my face
like traffic stopping suddenly
to let a baby
and a fast dog cross.
You are standing on the other side
Rain falls up
running away from us people
down here
small people
most people are sick today.
The ground underneath my feet
startles me.
I thought I was in air
I was looking up
glasses on
For you.
Parakeets and cockatoos
fly past and I think
you are in danger
you need a cage.
Eagles hold onto the bars.
I have my moon boots on.
I am a little girl.
1978.
The snow is in my way.
Christmas has come and gone.
The reindeer stands frozen
in my garden
eating carrots
from my hand.
Yesterday I saw a spark
on my walk
in the dark
by the trees.
Today I smell smoke
and I hear the small cry
of a coyote
a fox
a deer.
Mothers cover their sleeping babes
And sleep, child
And sleep
And sleep.
Pandemic
March 2020 has turned out to be the weirdest month of my life. I wouldn't describe it as terrible, although for people who are sick or destitute it certainly has become terrible. For me, this Coronavirus pandemic has forced me (and lots and lots of other people) to take a look inside, under the hood of a person and poke around a bit. I find myself, now that I have literally nowhere to go, waking up at 330 or 4am every morning, wandering around my house like I am looking for someone. My children are now at their dad's for the weekend and so when I awoke this morning it was especially quiet. There was no need to creep in to Jonah's room to make sure he had put his cell phone away. There were no girls, ages 17 and 19 now, to check on as well.
These last few days have been filled with children again. These children come in another form than the children I knew many years ago. The pitter patter of their feet down my stairs is replaced by my 6 foot 1 son screaming across the house for Alexa to play that stupid SpongeBob song again while his sisters yell, "Alexa STOP!"
Its homeschooling over here because all of the schools are closed now. Sadie's back home for good for her semester and in five days it is like she never left. She is like an extension of us, a part of the machine that doesn't necessarily make the thing work but when it is in place that machine is so so much better. Nora has so much school work to do and she has turned in to such a good student, a good person. Standing in line at Richardson's two days ago she's worrying that a brownie sundae is seven dollars. She is her grandmother, frugal and worried.
And I have decided to teach Jonah how to cook but in reality what I am actually trying to do is keep him off his phone for at least an hour a day.
I felt instantly back in my element. I revisited days gone by so quickly. These weren't little children anymore but they had all the flavor of their little children selves.
The real truth is I was my best when my children were young. The little person in me that was such a lonely little thing for so many years, she got to come out and play. She helped me be the mother that climbed up the slide at the park and made sand castles at the beach. She went in to the water to swim and was just as excited to see Finding Nemo and countless other movies when they came out in the theater. She enjoyed all the Harry Potter books and playing cards and drew pictures.
Yesterday we went for a hike with my friend and the three teenagers were way behind us. We were chatting away and I kept looking back to see these three laughing or chatting in rhythm with each other. A large group of teenagers approached and walked past us. I watched as my teenagers kept with each other, protected in the umbrella of a family. I used to envy them this, I was such a lonely teenager, didn't they know how lucky they were? But now I know, they know, even if they don't admit it. They know.
Today I am alone, 4am, coffee in hand next to the laziest dog on the planet. It's so quiet in this house and I have very little to do today.
All of the movies that we watched growing up didn't prepare me for this kind of quiet. It's a wondering quiet. The dog isn't phased by the silence at all.
March 2020 has turned out to be the weirdest month of my life. I wouldn't describe it as terrible, although for people who are sick or destitute it certainly has become terrible. For me, this Coronavirus pandemic has forced me (and lots and lots of other people) to take a look inside, under the hood of a person and poke around a bit. I find myself, now that I have literally nowhere to go, waking up at 330 or 4am every morning, wandering around my house like I am looking for someone. My children are now at their dad's for the weekend and so when I awoke this morning it was especially quiet. There was no need to creep in to Jonah's room to make sure he had put his cell phone away. There were no girls, ages 17 and 19 now, to check on as well.
These last few days have been filled with children again. These children come in another form than the children I knew many years ago. The pitter patter of their feet down my stairs is replaced by my 6 foot 1 son screaming across the house for Alexa to play that stupid SpongeBob song again while his sisters yell, "Alexa STOP!"
Its homeschooling over here because all of the schools are closed now. Sadie's back home for good for her semester and in five days it is like she never left. She is like an extension of us, a part of the machine that doesn't necessarily make the thing work but when it is in place that machine is so so much better. Nora has so much school work to do and she has turned in to such a good student, a good person. Standing in line at Richardson's two days ago she's worrying that a brownie sundae is seven dollars. She is her grandmother, frugal and worried.
And I have decided to teach Jonah how to cook but in reality what I am actually trying to do is keep him off his phone for at least an hour a day.
I felt instantly back in my element. I revisited days gone by so quickly. These weren't little children anymore but they had all the flavor of their little children selves.
The real truth is I was my best when my children were young. The little person in me that was such a lonely little thing for so many years, she got to come out and play. She helped me be the mother that climbed up the slide at the park and made sand castles at the beach. She went in to the water to swim and was just as excited to see Finding Nemo and countless other movies when they came out in the theater. She enjoyed all the Harry Potter books and playing cards and drew pictures.
Yesterday we went for a hike with my friend and the three teenagers were way behind us. We were chatting away and I kept looking back to see these three laughing or chatting in rhythm with each other. A large group of teenagers approached and walked past us. I watched as my teenagers kept with each other, protected in the umbrella of a family. I used to envy them this, I was such a lonely teenager, didn't they know how lucky they were? But now I know, they know, even if they don't admit it. They know.
Today I am alone, 4am, coffee in hand next to the laziest dog on the planet. It's so quiet in this house and I have very little to do today.
All of the movies that we watched growing up didn't prepare me for this kind of quiet. It's a wondering quiet. The dog isn't phased by the silence at all.
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