Every morning I wake up with the sun lighting up the bedroom. Earlier every morning until we set the clock forward again at end of the month. Spring is around the corner, finally, after a winter that was so rainy, our grass patch in the garden is a moss patch now. And every morning I feel momentarily blissful and excited about what the day could bring.
And then I remember. Oh. Right. Corona.
The day will bring continued climbing numbers and more people to mourn.
24hr news cycles, speeches from world leaders.
Staying the FUCK home and being glad I know HOW to work from home with kids.
Worrying about loved ones that can’t stay home and feeling overall very humbled.
Batch cooking and doing inventory like a fucking restaurant.
And putting up a brave face for two tiny but secretly highly intuitive little children.
I am scared. I’m not going to sit here and deny it. I’m fucking scared. My kids one day may read this post and think to themselves, “Huh. Mom never showed it.” Nope kiddos.
I waited until you were in bed to fidget with my handwashed-to-death-eczema-riddled hands, the painful sting of hand sanitizer reminding me my hands are chapped but clean.
I waited until you were sound asleep, dreaming peacefully about toys and snuggles – things that you should be dreaming of, and I hope you will for a long time – while I panic a little bit downstairs.
One day at a time.
We are here. We have each other. I love rainbows, because they remind me that you need rain in order to see them. I’ve loved them ever since experiencing miscarriages and infertility before finally having our daughter, and later on our son. My faith is a rainbow.
Rain and sun together, a transition into something better again. We don’t have rainbows now. We have liters and liters of rain pouring down on us, threatening to drown healthcare systems and economies around the globe. It’s a waiting game while we fight as one world to flatten the curve.
Stay safe, take care, mind your health, and the health of your loved ones and strangers alike.