Dear Yuri,
Even though the sun now fades the Rainbows in our Windows-I wake up feeling hopeful,
Totally in awe of the brilliance of everyday human kindness that has been unveiled, as they’ve sailed by, like a lucky, sometimes yucky, holiday – minus the furlough, but too much merlot, now switched to aperol spritz.
Blitz spirit,
When I’ve found myself hanging out with my 89 year old neighbour more than anyone. She says she feels more like someone now everyone has the time to stop by.
I cry.
And the rays of colour brighten,
As I’ve tried to not let this frighten our little cubs, nor dwell on the closure of our local pub, instead-
Blinded by the truthful blues of children zooming their friends, sharing their days of never ending online learning and yearning to see their Nannas.
Yellow bananas, ripening for another batch of baked goods.
Never ending cycles of washing, wiping, walking, whatsapping, wearing a hot sweaty mask to grab a pint of milk,
Silky spring turned to summer, birds humming louder, skies brighter than I’ve ever seen them. Maybe because I’ve spent more time looking up.
Not down, at the grey ground and brown shoes of commuting feet.
I don’t want us to be defeated,
by the constant bleeting of lies and political guise that they’ve spouted right before our eyes.
So I dry them,
Knowing how blessed we’ve been to have seen the green of our garden,
welcome back nature and be given this time to connect, reflect and reject the notion when they write in black and white that this is someone else’s fault.
I’ve sought peace for those I love who have lost,
And said thank you every day for who we have close,
Love is a rose,
And my now, much bigger, post lockdown pants, have gone from uniform black, to the Pink of Hydrangeas.