One day, but not today

There will be a day

When market shelves are fully stocked with toilet paper, isopropyl alcohol, flour, and yeast and we won’t be stunned

When our homecomings are not punctuated by a solid 20 seconds of hand washing

And we can smile at each other with the entirety of our faces, not solely as a pair of eyes above a mask

 

This will be true one day, but not today

 

There will be a time when Amazon Prime returns to next day delivery

When the targeted ads in my Instagram feed are anything other than athleisure, a tempting array of sweatpants like I’ve never before seen and somehow still resist

When I will book travel and look forward to experiencing somewhere new

And not adventure to the pharmacy or Target as vacation destinations

 

This will occur in the distant future, but it didn’t happen today

 

There will be a day

When our kids go back at school

When we see little ones on a playground and pause and smile with gratitude

And current events will cover a range of topics, not just the One

 

This will happen one day, just not today

 

There will be a day

When we begin to mend what was broken

When we may take a collective global breath and sigh with a big deep inhale and know that we will be okay except when we aren’t

And we’ll be better prepared god forbid there’s a next time

 

This will happen one day – it’s not today

 

We will return to a sense of “normal,” though normal will never be the same

We’ll have our hair cuts and manicures and pedicures, we’ll improvise graduations and proms

We’ll tell each other stories about how we managed with updates on our confinement projects

We’ll be happy except when we’re not, and we will continue to mourn and grieve what was lost

And we will remember what we found

 

This will happen one day. Today isn’t it.

 

Today I am grateful for the unavoidable moment at the bank supporting the essential nature of our business in which the teller and I talked about how much we dislike the heat under our face masks, celebrated our treasured personal hand sanitizer bottles then wished each other a good day

I might return to learning ukulele on YouTube

I will connect when I can and disconnect when I remember I need that too

I will write a letter and put it in the mail

I will reach out to the friend who lives alone

I will enjoy the smell of fresh baked cookies

I will complete another crossword puzzle like I did before all this started

I could even organize another closet

(there must still be one I haven’t done)

I will cuddle with my husband, kids and dogs, not necessarily in that order

I will send a silent prayer to all those on the front lines, to those recovering, to those suffering,

And to us all in our shared vulnerability and our resilient and delicate humanity

 

This I can do.

I can do this today.

 

Photo by LOGAN WEAVER on Unsplash

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