I Cussed at Rock Piles

Today, I had time to think, and two months of emotions held at bay by busyness overtook me. I cried. I repeatedly texted an overly patient friend. I drove back roads alone. I yelled and cussed at piles of rocks. I alternated between raging at and pleading with the universe.

I still feel emotionally on edge. My mind continues to search for something to fix. My body craves human touch. My soul seeks answers to questions unanswerable.

I want to escape from everything related to COVID-19. I want to forget the phrases “social distancing” and “out of an abundance of caution”. I do not want to see signs limiting my purchase of eggs. I would like to see some toilet paper. I do not want to know the location of a handful of advanced directives, and I do not want to discuss which organs my husband might wish to donate at midnight. I do not want to have reason to worry about his safety at his job. I want to crush the thermometer that now lives on the counter so he can check his temperature everyday. I do not want to wonder each night if I will be able to hold onto him the next night or if a fever will force him far from arm’s reach. I want to hug the people who collect our trash and the person who delivers our mail. I want to hug everyone. I want someone to hug me. I want my six year-old to worry about whether or not his tennis shoes come in his favorite color instead of having trouble sleeping because of worries about getting sick or running out of food.

I want you to sit near me without fear of breathing. I want to laugh, embrace, and shake your hands. I want to eat a meal in a restaurant and accidentally bump your chair because we are seated so close together. I want to reach past this screen and touch you, but my hands are restrained so may my words wrap around your heart in absence of my arms.

If you yell at rocks in moments of frustration, you might hear my voice in the distance. If you cry when you have a moment to think, I will cry with you. If you need to text a friend when you feel overwhelmed, text me. If you cannot see your way in the darkness, I will walk beside you. We will find the way out of this, together.

Love to you all.