One day I’ll tell them of this time, of its beauty.
How sunshine appeared in the faces of people we could only see on FaceTime.
How chalk painted the footpaths of family homes, how teddy bears sat outwardly in windows.
How quickly we became close to those far away.
I’ll tell them about the parks that closed, and how we made art, and huts under the table instead.
How the loudness was drowned out by the quiet of bird song. And while our yard became impatient with adventures the empty streets would wait.
I’ll tell them of the heart ache, the walls that closed in, how death became a graph, how so many had to close their door to the smallest of bubbles, and the small businesses that closed their doors too.
The new mothers welcoming their babies into the unknown. The funerals with few goodbyes, the ache we all carried, if not for ourselves, for others. The ones far from home, the cancelled plans.
This one big, cancelled plan.
I’ll tell them of the resilience, the medical workers caring for others around the clock, risking their own health.
The mothers and fathers working from home, who also became teachers, who took turns to crumble while one held the other.
The ones who crumbled alone and kept going anyway. The ones who lost their jobs. The ones who cried into their hands and then smiled shortly after, because while the world stood still, there just wasn’t time.
I’ll tell them how everyone wore masks, how only 2 years before if we were shown the images of our daily lives, we wouldn’t have believed it. That this horror movie trailer would be one we would all take part in.
The new-found respect I had for parents at home with young children, for every single human finding a way to cope.
I’ll tell them that the days were long, and the mess was large. How sometimes I’d spit fire at the overwhelm, at the monotony, only to remind myself how lucky we were, measuring our situation against a world of sadness, because it’s all we had at the time to remember, we were OK.
I’ll tell them that all wasn’t broken, in so many ways the world was healing.
And as I watched them play and point at the clouds, blissfully unaware of what might be falling apart… it was those simple moments that would hold me together.
Jess Urlichs, Writer
Beautiful art: mum_doodles
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