One of these days, it will dawn in a world where all this will have happened.
One of these days, we will live again, no longer sheltering in place or wearing protective equipment and masks to leave our homes. One of these days we will go back to make up, do our hair, dress up and go out to spend the night in the theater, soaking up all the glorious laughter and talk of being in a room full of people, without fear. of what could be transmitted. One more day, we will celebrate a special occasion in a fancy restaurant, surrounded too closely by other diners, but we won’t mind. One of these days we will organize dinners and we will hug and hug each and every one of the people who enter our house.
One of these days, we will look back with a mixture of pain, relief, anger and fear at this entire terrible, devastating and momentous period.
Unfortunately, that day has not yet come.
It will not be as far from now as we fear, nor will it be as soon as we would prefer.
But it is coming; as surely as the sun will rise and the winds will blow and the stars will shine; approaches. To paraphrase TS Elliot, that instant will land not with a bang, but with a groan; subtlety, slowly, surreptitiously making its presence known. In the same way, one cannot see a flower open, but one can recognize its beauty when it blooms, that time is blooming even now.
And when it does, what will you do to commemorate its arrival?
I you will once again experience joy in the little things. I will no longer socially distance myself or isolate myself, but will smile broadly when someone, anyone, passes me on the sidewalk. I don’t have to wipe everything with sanitary napkins anymore, I’ll drop my butt on whatever park bench I fucking want to, or hang out in your jungle gym, free from the worry of what it might catch. I will enjoy the background noise and the chatter of a crowded mall. I will stay within six feet when I line up at the grocery store and will not be afraid to handle cash when I pay.
I will see in the eyes of every person I meet or casually walk the runway the scars and pain of our shared experience.. I will know that we are united, even if we don’t know each other’s names. We share history and trauma. We are survivors and we are very aware of that common ground; a band of brothers who never served together but who emerged from battle, we are one. That thought will remain in the foreground.
I will hug myself again and again and again and again until my arms hurt and my face hurts from crying tears of happiness and reunion. Family and friends whom I have only heard or seen through technology, I will embrace them acknowledging how relieved I am to be together again. It may take a while, but I will rejoice in the feeling that my loved ones are pressing against me, almost unwilling to let go. I will smother them with kisses and hold their heads against mine and tell them how much I missed them and how deep my love for them is. And then I’ll do it all over again.
Above all, I will be grateful.
I will cry tears of joy without shame. I will appreciate the little glimpses of banality more than I ever thought I could. I will stop complaining about boring work assignments or tedious outdoor tasks at my home. I will welcome your worldliness.
I will thank the countless millions who watched over us during our darkest times.Those who kept our supply chains open and those who treated us during illness are at great risk to themselves. Some I will mourn but I will never forget.
Every day I breathe, I will be standing outside in the renewed, virus-free atmosphere, arms outstretched, facing the sun, smiling like a fool., and with each healthy cell of my being, I thank the Universe, God, the Eternal Spirit for allowing me a day on this planet where I can praise my life force and its resilience and for the breath that fills my lungs and the blood that pumps through my heart. I am alive and there is no greater gift than that. I will never ever take that for a granite.
That day could have passed through distant horizons, but I will begin my practice starting right now.