Ordinary Life

There's more fear in the atmosphere, but also more outrageous acts of love. Is this what has been asked from us all along? Our hearts bursting open, our lungs aching to remind us that we need to breathe? We need to open our hearts wider to ourselves and others… and to this magnificent planet. 

How are the other animals reacting to this change? What about the plants? Trees, lakes, rivers, even oceans must be stretching out into the more available space— reaching into the wider air, the empty streets, the quiet.

The world feels smaller. Now we seem to sense how everyone is feeling 

in deserts and mountains, small villages, 

ports with ships stilled in their voyaging, quiet space under bridges,

trains stopped on their tracks, silhouetted against skies and grain elevators, 

ice floes in St. John's Harbour, sun glinting through trees in jungles. 

The whole world is alive. We are lifting ourselves up higher. 

Like kids with scabby knees, we are climbing trees to look out across distances, our hands shading our eyes to better witness life spread out below us.

A woman hanging clothes on the line, her mouth clamped down on clothespins, eyes trained on her children playing on the green lawn,  their faces focused on the job at hand— dandelions grasped in tiny hands, twisting long stems into a crown—a wreath. 

The sound of bees, the quick flash of a butterfly, the distance sound of music from a car passing by.

A bicycle—the wind catching in coloured streamers tied to the handlebars, cards clicking in the wheels as they turn faster and faster down the hill. 

A game of chess in the park, old men meeting here every day. 

No longer concerned about the boardroom, the kids long gone. The sales reports a memory. 

Now just the Queen, the Bishop, the Pawn—-simple 

a hand hovering, the decision, the breeze cool on the back of the neck, 

a baby carriage wheels by, 

the click of heels, 

the squeak of sneakers skipping,  

the smell of bread baking, cinnamon buns,  

chairs at a wobbly table outside,  coffee in white mugs. 

A couple young, newly in love, leaning over the table toward each other. Their smiles shy, their future swelling around them. 

Like balloons lifted into the air. 

All these precious moments become like old movies. Even though it has only been a few weeks, it feels like a lifetime since we have had ordinary life. 

It feels like distant treasure. 

We hold it tenderly, like gifts from children, wrapped in tissue. 

We hold it and breathe it in.

Written on April 1, 2020