Little Bug

 

We have been doing this for five weeks now. We get up, have breakfast, you have a zoom meeting with your tutor or start on your slides for school, I try to get in a few emails and zoom meetings of my own. Because construction is considered essential my work hasn’t slowed down, but my ability to keep up with it has, and also, to some extend, my willingness. There is always more work to do, but now I am more able than ever before to snap it shut like a book and walk away.

There are many people eager for the economy to open back up, and protests have started cropping up here and there. According to some news they are funded by the wealthy on the extreme right, who, it is quite clear, do not care if we all live or die as long as we keep making them money.

While the protesters are in the fringe, some waving confederate flags and brandishing rifles, there is widespread sentiment that this has gone on long enough. As if the virus were some teenager having a temper tantrum, in need of a good scolding. The governors are taking the brunt of the criticism, as the president has left nearly all decision-making to them. As if what happens in one state does not affect us all.

I think people are worried about their jobs somehow more that their health (welcome to capitalism), but also, seeing how little control we have over the world as lived through our own biology is coming as a great shock. Realizing we can’t control the number of hands that have touched our food, or the people that have traveled through our towns and countries, not with any amount of Clorox wipes or immigrant bans. And we can’t control the spread of a tiny microorganism, or squeeze its effects into a timeline that fits with our school schedules and stock markets and summer travel plans. How humbling it is, to be jolted back to being these human animals, connected to every other living thing.

I am honestly a little sick of it all too – it’s hard to focus, hard to get mental breaks, and we’ve watched almost every good show and documentary on Netflix. I can barely remember what day it is, and without a big color-coded schedule I make for each of us every Sunday, I wouldn’t know the hour. Or why it matters anyway.

There is also a part of me that hopes it never ends. I work in the garden every day. I am watching the bees swarm the gaillardia and poppies, noticing what is blooming and about to bloom. Yesterday, I saw the lizard that I’ve heard rustling in the lemongrass pop out into the garden, grab a bug and steal back into hiding. There is a whole ecosystem in our tiny front yard, and for the first time in a long time I feel close to it again. I feel close to time in the real sense, not the clock sense, part of it instead of something to fight and win against.

You are working on school, but barely, and it seems fine. Better than fine, actually. A big realization is how little time learning really takes – 45 minutes to an hour and you’re done with all your lessons. The school day seems now more geared to parents’ schedules than to kids. And you have the tutors that you need, that you weren’t getting in public school, even with all the IEP meetings and advocacy I’ve spent nights doing. Your after care has been doing zoom meetings too – improv and art and music and just hang time. It’s not perfect and still lonely for you but still better than going to school, you say.

There is way too much screen time. With school only taking 45 minutes, that leaves you playing video games a lot. And there is me wanting to fight it with everything that’s in me. But yesterday I sat with you while you played, and you showed me the boats and sharks you’ve earned and were so excited to share it with me. I helped you pick out outfits for your character. I am going to miss this time with you so much.

Your eighth birthday was Friday. How to make it memorable? How will you remember any of this time? For some reason you don’t like birthday parties, and didn’t want anyone to sing to you. It was rainy and we stayed in all day, played games and put together the models. You are growing up so much faster than I thought possible.