I wonder what will happen after this ends. What it will be like for us.
If we will still be perched on fire escapes, watching the streets unfold with the pigeons and the pocket change, and peeking out of our windows and watching the grass grow and the flowers bloom. If we will still be living in fear or learning how to heal. If we will still be distant, quiet, grieving.
I wonder what the lovers will do.
If they will go back to their roots and open the only way they know, or if they will grow more distant because that’s what they’re used to. Maybe holding hands will be an act of rebellion. Maybe kissing will start to mean something to some people.
Maybe when this is over, it will feel warm. We will want to make up for lost time – and it will be okay, too.
So when this is all over, and we’re able to go outside and be close and touch, let yourself be free. Run to the ocean, dance at outdoor concerts, stand close to each other in the bars. When we walk by one another, stay on the sidewalk and smile. Embrace mornings with the sun at the park, and the nights, heavy with humidity and lightning bugs and the mosquitos. Travel to the place you’ve always wanted to see, eat the foods you’ve always wanted to try. Be kinder to one another. Be more understanding, more loving, more generous, more empathetic.
Until this happens, we will stay inside. Grieving, praying, hoping, thinking about peace. Peering out our windows and wondering when or if this will all be over soon.