The Little Things by Sarah McGuinness

What have I learned?

Sounds like a simple question

One that does not have an easy answer

As the days become weeks

And the weeks blur into months

Time has no meaning anymore

A ship out to sea with no bearings

No anchor to tether me in place.

All the pleasures I always took for granted

A dinner out at an intimate fancy restaurant

A craft beer at a crowded bar

Music flowing through you at a show

A rejuvenating yoga class to feel alive again

The little things.

I have learned where my limits are

To being confined within the same four walls

Day in and day out 

So white and harsh

Suffocating my spirit as I work away.

Self discipline 

Drive and productivity

Knowing others are far worse off 

Keeping the train on the tracks

Full speed ahead.

Adapting to the new normal 

Always evolving

Donning a mask

Hiding what used to be my vibrant smile

Now often a sneer

At all the fools

Noses wagging atop their masks

Barreling the wrong way down the grocery store aisle

Not caring at all for for their own safety 

Let alone that of others. 

Our selfish Americanness

Kindness fallen by the wayside

Rugged individualism

Our rights being infringed upon 

Karmic justice, I’m hopeful, will eventually reign.

Life as we know it may never be the same

The constant threat of illness

That could be the onset to untimely death 

With one misstep 

One wrong breath. 

But the virus is not the only danger

Our leadership is running amok 

People of color trampled on

As if the last 60 years of progress

Never even happened

The joke is on us

On our perfect democracy. 

I feel fear in a away I haven’t in a long time 

Stress

Anger

Trepidation

Hoping for my loved ones to be safe 

For me to be safe.

Longing for those little things

Dangling in front of your nose

Just out of reach. 

The longer this goes on

The farther I unravel

A puddle, rippling in the breeze

Evaporating in the heat of the moment.

I haven’t had the free time or bandwidth to learn

As some others have

Baking sourdough

Knitting

Teaching ourselves new useless skills and hobbies 

To lose ourselves, to hide

To forget the monsters lurking 

Under the bed 

On the other side of the door

The outside world with its cruelty and chaos

Knocking

Waiting with baited breath 

For you to yearn for normalcy so badly

That you throw caution to the wind.

We are all just grasping 

Trying to hold our lives together

Water spilling from our hands

As we try to cup it, protect it.

I have learned a thing or two about resiliency 

Gravity pulling us down

Scratching and crawling 

Fighting 

Never letting go

Making the decision to forge on

To not give up

Not to let adversity win. 

I see it every day 

In the parents working full time

And still helping to educate their children

From their living rooms

Their kitchen tables

In our essential workers risking exposure

Everyday

To ensure others make it home

Those in the service industry

Giving people something to look forward to

Outside the comfort or prison of their homes 

Small businesses closing their doors

People out of work left and right

But we bail out the rich once more

Why the hell not?

The polar bears starving

Sea level rising

While communities can no longer afford to recycle, let alone innovate 

Trying to pluck positives out of thin air

Bright flowers

Bees buzzing

Searching for grounding, for sanity

As the world spins out around me

Quiet

Serenity

As we retreat back to our four walls

Nature is trying to take back

All we stole from it

Moose grazing in urban centers

Sharks swimming up and down the coasts

Murder hornets

Swarming

A tale so tall if we were not living it

We would never believe it

Fake news.

Like life right now for many

My words flit and float across the page

I could go on 

and on 

and on

But I won’t. 

I’ll spare you 

The rhetoric

The lecture

To be completely honest,  

Not sure how much I am learning

Certainly I am not thriving

But at least I am surviving.

Take a depth breath

Appreciate the freedom of the air entering

Exiting our lungs 

Not even enjoying the exhale 

As we gasp for oxygen once more. 

Maybe if we close our eyes 

Wish upon a star

This nightmare will dissipate

All we can do is hope

One foot in front of the other 

Begging for a better tomorrow

When you have hit rock bottom

The only place to go is up. 

With the encouragement of a good friend

The warm embrace of your partner

A snuggle and kiss from your canine 

Companionship.

The little things

That show you there is light at the end of the tunnel

That when you finally break the surface

You will not be alone.