March 2020 / COVID-19 / For My Children
Remember us together when the schools shut down
in a time that didn’t work like it did before, days
that ran together when we couldn’t gather in groups
of more than ten, or go out to eat, see a movie,
or ﬁnd hand sanitizer in good supply.
Remember card games at the table.
Remember videos of penguins exploring
a deserted aquarium across the country.
Remember how you got to know our house
from every corner, saw all the spaces and places
where small cracks began to form. Remember me
doing a deep clean as we came to rest in our new
togetherness, often jangled, often delicate and afraid.
Remember the stories I read to you at bedtime.
Remember the walks we took each morning, the woods
we explored at night. Remember that I sat with you,
that I laughed with you. Remember that I tried, and that,
when they closed the borders we opened our own
to let each other in from a distance to wander
under a single sky, waiting for it all to be a story
we tell, something we only remember.
The Effects of This
by Celina Simmons
I anxiously drank through two cups of coffee in the amount of time I would usually drink one after this morning didn’t go as planned. I thought I had a hold on all of this, was cool with all of this, but this morning didn’t go as planned.
I woke up after pressing snooze one too many times, but that was forgiven. Got up and fed the cat with the addition of a prescription. Her anxiety stays in sync with mine and I’m sorry about that. But she doesn’t like meds, so this morning didn’t go as planned.
Unlike my cat, I’ve learned to grow with mine. But when I’m not looking, they love to sneak outside. I overflow and don’t know why, and sometimes still I lose my mind. Sit, breathe, drink your cup and accept that this morning didn’t go as planned.
When I couldn’t think straight lines, I left. I sat in the cold but felt the softest rain tapping on my cheeks that were burning so sharp. I let go and closed my eyes, leaving again but this time without a body, because I couldn’t stand how this morning didn’t go as planned.
I begged to heal and I begged for a change, because it wasn’t my cat’s fault when things never went as planned. I cried for an answer as to why I felt pain, before remembering 10 years ago when the feelings were the same. Maybe it wasn’t my fault either. Maybe I don’t want to medicate. Maybe it was more than this morning that didn’t go as planned.
The hours that followed were spotty and hollow. I crawled back into bed with coffee keeping me awake, kind of wishing I could try again and just restart my day. My safe space feels like a stress place and I think I wanna go home now. Scratch that, I can fix this, as long as tomorrow’s morning goes as planned.
Categories: Arts & Culture