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Strange times that we are all living in right now. I had actually written a story a few days ago and published it regarding the virus that is changing the lives of so many. Not is it rapidly spreading to areas we never expected, but it is indeed changing our daily life. From social distancing to closing businesses and everyday venues.

Life, as we know it, as we have lived it, from church services, drinking coffee and sitting in a corner of a shop, to grabbing drinks with our friends after a busy workweek, even work itself, has taken on new meaning. It isn’t easy being human. Suddenly, many of these places had to close, and we were told to go on lockdown for fourteen days. Schools and universities are now offering classes online, jobs are hanging in the balance, and even our favorite movie theaters that were once a welcome escape, have shut their doors. TGIF has taken on a different meaning.

Luckily some artists have chosen to do live music online, and there are now Zoom happy hours. It is a way to stay connected, while not. I miss going to a concert, and dancing, sitting in a park on a blanket with friends, sipping a cold beer from a plastic cup and waiting for a movie to begin when it gets dark.

I miss the hustle and movement of the city and picking up a bouquet of tulips from the market or walking along the pier, stopping by at a local restaurant to eat fresh seafood, the taste of crab melting in my mouth, buttered and oh so warm, and sourdough bread. Now, I’m making that bread at home, slicing into its warmth at my kitchen table.

I’m craving laughter from late-night get-togethers playing Cards Against Humanity. Instead, we are fighting something that is very much against humanity and I’m playing Words With Friends, only there are no words really for what we all feel, and conversations over the phone start with “Before the virus”.

I used to walk through botanical gardens snapping photos of roses and such in bloom, now, I miss those days. While appreciated as I walked along paths with others, I miss those blooms, even more, these days, but I quietly snap photos on my solitary walks, sharing online on social media. It is a party of one, a meal for one cooked for myself, I facetime friends for a virtual dinner date.

“Last summer, I remember
watching planes leave contrails
zig-zagging across the sky.
I went out for long walks
and passed couples out jogging or walking their dogs
Children played in the park nearby.
I would sit on the patio of a rooftop restaurant
and watch the sunset with a glass of wine in hand
and laugh with friends over pizza and pasta in a candlelit room.
Last summer, I traveled
36,00 feet in the air
and watched clouds, dreaming lazily above the world.
I danced to music and watched movies
under a moonlit sky.
Now all I can do is cry over memories of last summer.”

I’ve come to realize just how much these everyday little things meant to me. I notice butterflies and blue skies a little bit more, as corny as it seems. I’m out feeding the little rabbits that come into the yard a bit more because I need them as much as they now need us. We really are dependant upon each other. This ecosystem, this earth, this life is teaching us that we are indeed all one.

We have a place, and our place is to care about the things that are given to us. Maybe through this crisis, we will see that. When this is over, we will appreciate that neighbors wave, or hug from a friend. We will draw them a little closer, or we will forever have to live from a distance.

I hope not, I want to celebrate life once more.

The poem that was written here is featured at