We sit at the dining room table, large enough to fit 8, but most recently only frequented by our family of four. Day 8 of quarantine.
We’re all plugged in, each trying to accomplish task after task, obligations that are meant to create normalcy but more than anything lack meaning.
He pulls on my sleeve, and as I turn from my screen, I see the frustration in his eyes. It wells up inside of him, tears forming pools in his eyes…I tell him to take a few breaths, and pull myself away from my own work once again to coach him through a poem that he’s just trying to finish, to post, so he can go out and play. He completes his task and is off, feeling “done” but I fear not any closer to becoming the poet he once wanted to be…
Later in the day, it was my turn. After 14 attempts at my first screencast, I had sworn, yelled at my kids for interrupting, and almost given up. I was tired, not feeling well after too much screen time and not enough human time. He pulls on my sleeve and I am so close to loosing it again, “Take a few breaths mama. It’s hard, but you can do it.” Tears form pools in my eyes, but they are from gratitude, not frustration.
This is tough. And yet, there is something so sweet in the slowness and the simplicity. As we learn to let these days go by and release the need to produce and accomplish, perhaps we’ll find gratitude in little interactions that might not have been under other circumstances. We’ll learn new things, and learn from others in ways that are beautiful and unexpected. We’ll grow. We’ll become.