Our friend Ali told us that her son Will (who is all of three years old) woke up one day recently, yawned, stretched and said, “Is coronavirus over yet?”
I feel you, kid.
Just between you and me, it has not been the best week at my house.
The dishwasher died, the refrigerator is making a funny noise, I’ve been in desperate need of a haircut for about 57 days and Gavin has been sick. I’m cranky and snappish (and a real treat to live with, I imagine…) and despite sitting at my laptop for four days straight I wasn’t able to write more than a few sentences. (Spoiler: they weren’t very good sentences.)
I think everybody is feeling it these days and I absolutely realize that my “problems” are of the champagne variety: I continue to be safe and warm in my house, with plenty to eat and nothing like the hardship that so many families are suffering here and throughout the world.
Back in April (which is about four years ago in Pandemic Time,) Queen Elizabeth made a rare address to the Commonwealth, to offer some thoughts on the Covid-19 crisis. I was particularly struck by something she said at the end of the video:
“We should take comfort that while we may have more still to endure, better days will return. We will be with our friends again. We will be with our families again. We will meet again…”
Better days will return. We will meet again.
I’ve thought about that a lot since then, tried to remind myself of that fact.
And then, the other day, while taking Gavin for his morning constitutional (a mission that requires a lot of weaving and wandering from grass to street and back again so as to avoid other pedestrians, in our tightly packed little suburban neighbourhood,) we came across two kids, a boy and girl, maybe 9 and 7. They had ridden their bicycles up the sidewalk to the mailboxes and were dutifully collecting their family’s mail – their looks of serious determination (and their bickering over who got to hold the key) betrayed their commitment to this onerous task.
We reflexively moved off the sidewalk to maintain an appropriate distance (at least two Golden Retrievers, as I’ve come to think of it) but the little girl spotted Gavin, who, to be fair, is ridiculously adorable as well as a bit of a chick magnet.
“Oh my gosh,” the little girl called out to us, “your dog is so cute!”
“He is, isn’t he?” Mariann said.
The little girl watched us walk by with a big smile and then she said, “I hope we meet again…when all the germs are gone!”
“I hope we do, too!” I said. “And when we do, you can pet him!”
We continued on our way but I admit, her words stayed with me.
It may take a long time.
But we will meet again. When all the germs are gone.
P.
P.S. Make sure you’re taking very good care of yourself…
As usual a lovely piece, and such a needed message. Look after yourselves and stay safe.
Thanks, Lesley! Maybe I will see you for a “Zoom” latté soon…