Covid Chronicles- April 7th, 2020

The kids have ruined our couch. They’re using the cushions as I write to row a boat throughout our house, and I’m glad because it means I can cry in the kitchen alone. Our power is out. It’s raining. Scott and I are in an argument. Avalon slammed Isla’s finger in the back door. I thought it was broken. Isla was screaming, I yelled at Avalon and then I ended up crying longer and harder than anyone.

There are somethings I love about this quarantine— like the excuse to do nothing. But how long can you do nothing before you become nothing? These are things that swim into my mind before my eyes are open. I must make jam. I must pickle onions. I must keep moving, creating, dreaming...pull some rainbow from under the mattress so my kids will know we’re gonna be alright. But then I just get knocked down, bowled over, with the weight of it all. How am I, how is anyone, supposed to make Easter special? There’s just something so sad about sanitizing all your groceries. Like you’re slowly removing all human contact from your life. Are times like these when the magic is missing the most, or when it is the most present?