Stay at Home Day 8
Hello! How is everyone doing out there? I hope you and and the ones you love are safe and healthy. There is a lot of togetherness going on over here. My family enacted the stay at home strictness a bit early because of my husband's job in healthcare. Those on the front lines of this pandemic deserve our very best effort from home.
As an individual, I have decided that this time of confinement is the perfect opportunity to be a bit more French. I have eaten more bread, butter, chocolate and wine in the last week than I did in all of 2019.
As a mom, I am trying my best to roll with what each day brings. Some moments are better than others.
Jake walked into the room eating a Ghirardelli chocolate caramel square, not paying attention to where he laid the wrapper on the coffee table. I asked (demanded) in a tone that may have come out a bit harsh - where did you get that?
My room, he replied.
No, I demanded again, where did you get that? I did NOT buy that during our pandemic grocery run. Chocolate caramel squares were not on the list. Why didn't I put that on the list?
Mom, he rolled his eyes as if the heavens could save him, I brought these from school. You sent them to me, remember?
No, I most certainly don't remember, but applaud myself on such a brilliant choice for his latest care package.
All food must be put in the pantry. There is to be no food stored in your room.
I got up and walked through the house like Paul Revere.
We are in ration mode people! All chocolate must be brought to me at once.
Jake brought me the bag which was still half full - peace was restored.
I wrote the following poem early in the morning because sleep has eluded me lately. I did write an essay on COVID 19. I did write a few pages of fiction. But this poem felt the most appropriate today. It does need a title still. Send me your suggestions! head on over to my Facebook or Instagram to comment.
Cherry blossoms litter the drive with fragrant petals of translucent white trimmed in blush.
I lay in the lawn saluting the sky to shield my eyes from a sun that has felt so distant.
The vigil has ended but the candles still burn a bitter scent of incense that drifts in waves upon the beaten ground.
My bones hum to the Earth’s vibration.
Laying deep into the dirt I hear children’s laughter in the distance.
Their shrill tones sift through the clouds and land thin upon my ears.
They will soon forget.
Stories will stretch as they grow, and history will shrink to fit the page.
I sink shoulder deep, grounding into the cool Earth with lungs pressed back flat, to strengthen the spine that stood crooked too long.
The children are more distant now. Games carried on the wind like memories of my youth are dimmed and growing silent.
They will soon forget.
How little it took.
To realize need.
I rise.
The sun throws shade upon me and shadows lose their form.
The chill shaken at last.
Cherry blossoms line the lawn in a staggered pattern, bent and bowed.
I never noticed their trunks so thick with age, weathered but rooted. I never saw their drooping limbs sweeping the ground in grand gestures of welcome or farewell.
The children’s laughter is but a distant hollow call like the train that whistles in my dreams.
They will soon forget.
The quiet.
The closeness within our distance.
How little it took, to go back in order to move beyond.
Love and Luck and Health,
Kg