Some days are fine.

I get up, after a decent sleep, and go for a walk.

I enjoy the latest signs of spring,

Pause to film some pretty ripples,

Don’t have to cross the road to avoid another person,

Then start the work day – from home – feeling positive.

 

Some days I do something different, like bake my first loaf of bread

Or plant a sunflower seed.

We learned a new board game,

Finished The Good Place,

And the scarf I’ve been knitting for two years might actually be finished

In time for autumn.

 

But some days I cry.

I think of coffee breaks that aren’t on a screen,

Going shopping without being scared,

And about how tightly I want to hug my parents

When I can finally see them again.

(Even though, when that happens, I won’t get close enough to risk a hug).

 

Yes, some days are fine:

The sun shines,

We laugh in the kitchen,

Colleagues share artistic attempts over video calls,

And I send love down the phone.

But some days I cry.