Tag Archives: cork

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Will We Recognize Each Other

Remnants of winter wash down the storm sewer at the end of our street, a steady stream of grime, dead leaves and leftover dreams. The smell of Mother Earth shedding her winter weight, a moist decay, fills my nose. Bits of green poke through melting snow on lawns, through espresso black loam in flower beds where early morning conversations were tossed out the door along with coffee grounds.

I run away from my neighbor who says hello, a slight panic that we might be too close. Deep embedded Canadian courtesy has me stop and turn around, ten feet away. With eyes lowered I say “hi”. “My bad” is his quick response, this first time pandemic for most of us, hard to get used to.

A smile, a wave, we carry on not knowing exactly where we are going, not knowing where this will lead, not knowing if we will recognize each other should we meet again when the virus has traveled its corkscrew route, twisting us to shreds like a dried out cork.

Will we look back and remember things we must never do again? Will we look back with gratitude as those who survived? Survivors who know greater kindness? Who lead simpler lives? Who know how to connect when it seems no connection is possible?

I pray when we look back it will be to celebrate the changes we make, with a bottle of Mt Brave Cabernet in hand.

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Going Through the Motions

Have you ever felt like you were simple going through the motions? You say the right thing, what people want to hear you say. You wear what you are expected to wear, your smile is sunny but doesn’t quite reach your eyes if anyone cared to stop and take a closer look.

The hello, the how are you, bursts of conversation without any depth. You start to reply but as you are talking you realize no one is listening. They didn’t really want to know how you are. They are caught up in their own thoughts, worries and fears.

They too are rushing head long through their days without a clear path of where they are going. Bobbing along like a cork in a stream. Trying not to get tossed around too much. But unlike the cork which is blissfully unaware of its tumultuous ride, you are using all you’ve got to keep your head above water.

Movements can be surreal. Like watching from a distance as your life unfolds. You can see what is happening but feel powerless to change. Your suggestions remain unheard, your prompting unheeded. Your invisibility radiates outward encompassing more and more until those automated motions are the only way to cope.

Note to self:
Must break out of Auto Pilot!