Day 2: we laugh out loud, and reminisce about those days, those days…the ones that were just months ago, yet feel like decades ago. Those days when we hugged, and shared food, and could breathe, and sigh, and spit out water when someone made you laugh so hard mid-sip, memorializing then, treading in the deep end now.
Day 2: we talk with exaggerated eyes evoking emotion our faces cannot show, masked muted voices push through to laugh, and share, and comfort. You move your hair away from your foreheads, I take your temperatures and think to myself how much I don’t want to do any of it. Still I push through the fog of thoughts. Still—we
We, today, found our way out of the fog and into pieces of joy. We laughed. Together. In one room. Windows wide open. Faces mostly covered. Voices muted. We lived.
And I box up this day, wrap it tight with bubble wrap, for I know there are rapids ahead and I will need it then.
