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.