Today,
I dared to let myself Dream
Today, I dared to let myself dream,
That the world will one day open again.
That the locks will loosen, the walls will fall,
The doors will fly open and reunite us all.
I dared to imagine the warmth of a cuddle,
A group of my friends all locked in a huddle.
I felt all the heartbeats, drumming with mine,
I heard all the laughter, I tasted the wine.
I thought of the feelings I’ve missed for long,
The room full of music, united by song.
The freedom to roam, to plan and to meet
To hold someone’s hand, to meet, to greet.
Just for a moment I dared to dream of,
The flights I would board to the places I love.
The moment those eyes would meet mine at the gate,
The feeling of joy after so long a wait.
Today, I dared to let myself dream,
That the life we once had would happen again.
That we’d no longer fear the danger of air,
That our lives would not depend on such care.
They say that we mustn’t wish time away,
But it’s hard, my friend, when faced with a day,
So long in blank hours and so wiped of laughter,
It’s tempting to drift away to thereafter.
So yes, I dared to dream just a while,
Of life coming back, it brought me a smile.
One day I know, this will be in the past,
And hugs will be free, again, at last.
Donna Ashworth
This is our Home and I won’t turn it in to a
Battleground.
I’ve lost a year with my kids battling over school
and I’m done.
My seven year old and I were in the midst of our
usual asynchronous day battle. I had his writing homework in my hand from
school. He’d written several full, well-thought-out sentences.
But he won’t do the same for me, at least not
without a fight.
I told him he didn’t have to write about his best
day like his teacher asked, he could write about his worst. He could write
about whatever he wanted as long as he wrote a few sentences.
He said he’d get in trouble. He said he was doing a
bad job in first grade. He was on the brink of tears but didn’t know why.
And it hit me.
Instead of getting frustrated and pushing the
assignment, I sat down with him at his desk in his superhero bedroom.
I said “you won’t get in trouble and you can’t fail
first grade. In fact, you’re kind of a superhero yourself.”
He sat up in his chair just a little and looked at
me with disbelief.
I said, “Do you know that no kids in the history of
kids have ever had to do what you’re doing right now? No kids in the history of
kids have ever had to do school at home, sitting in their bedroom, watching
their teacher on a computer. You and your friends are making history.”
A visible weight lifted from his seven year old
shoulders, “What does that mean?”
I told him it means I haven’t given him nearly
enough credit for rolling with the punches. I told him how proud I am of him
and his friends. That kids this year are doing the impossible and they’re doing
a really great job.
I apologized for not saying it sooner and more
often. A little tear fell down his cheek.
We’ve thanked everyone from healthcare workers to
grocery store employees but we haven’t thanked the kids enough for bearing the
burden of what we’ve put on their shoulders this year.
We’ve said kids are resilient, and they are. But
they are the real superheroes in this whole scenario for having ZERO say in
their lives but doing their best to adjust every day.
We closed his school-issued laptop and spent the
rest of the day playing. This was supposed to be temporary and here we are a
year later still trying to hold our head above water.
This is our home and I won’t turn it into a battle
ground anymore over something we can’t control. Something that no longer makes
sense.
Hug your little superheroes today and don’t forget
to cut them the slack we’ve given everyone else.
