To every time I’ve felt utterly out of control,
kicking and screaming as I didn’t get my way,
I’m sorry. You were nothing compared to this.
He was coloring an ice cream cone today
on his learning app, and I thought, “Surely we’ll get
to take him to get ice cream again.” Surely.
They say breathing four counts in and eight
counts out will help. Right now, I can only
make it to five on the exhale. For now, this
must be enough.
I think of all the babies being born, all the
people becoming parents, all the mothers
giving birth. They are not alone, no matter how
alone they feel. This belief keeps me alive.
I think of the dead. Are their families able to
bury them? Please tell me we can still bury
our dead.
I pray the serenity prayer several times a day.
I do not feel serene. There’s no formula to get
us through this one. No one, literally no one,
knows.
The doctor who’s supposed to know says data
from China is different than data from France.
And I read this morning that in Singapore,
where they’ve returned to business as usual,
coronavirus cases are on the rise again.
There’s a tree three houses down that’s
blooming white blossoms, and as I beheld its
stark beauty, standing there reaching up
toward the blue lit sky, I began to yield.
“You win!” I said to Love or Universe or God or
whomever, whatever would hear me.
They kindly sang back: “This is not a game,
dear one. It’s not about winning. It’s about love.”
All of the scripture stories and prayers about
love surpassing all knowledge poured over me
like a wave. Was I drowning or floating?
Sinking or swimming?
God grant me the serenity to accept the things
I cannot change; the courage to change the
things I can; the wisdom to know the difference.
I am left with this: today, she kicked her legs
and lifted up on all fours and almost began to
crawl; he re-enacted “The Three Little Pigs”
and had me record the special production as a
gift for his cousin’s birthday.
We are dreamers and creators at our core.
We make the way by walking, and, sometimes,
by staying home.