I guess this is forever, then

December 2019. 

Little did we know that only a few scant months later, a lasting pandemic would overshadow the normal petty squabblings of 21st-century life and affect every aspect of modern life: work, play, relationships, family, politics.

But right before Christmas 2019, life was good. Life was simple. Families were divided because of the same old reasons, not whether or not to be vaccinated. 

It was the single happiest month of my life. Because you were there. 

But I’m better now than I was then, and not because I’m happier. I’m not. But I am smarter. Ok, maybe not smarter. Let’s say… savvier.

Self-knowledge is a hell of a thing, and you taught me more about dealing with my pent-up shit than a month of Sunday’s worth of enemas. 

See, I hoped. I thought life still held happy endings. But life’s not a movie, and the hero can’t take that many blows and still get up without permanent damage. You helped me see that. The scales fell from my eyes.

They say the heart wants what the heart wants. Well, maybe it’s time to be heartless, because that’s the only way to stop it from bleeding all over the future as it pines for a lost past.

I should thank you for this evolution. I think I would, given the chance. With a goodbye, you handed me the sledgehammer for some creative demolition. But after the fall, you have to rise, right?

There’s a reason the saying goes, “What goes up must come down,” instead of “What goes down must come up.” Getting up isn’t guaranteed. Falling is.

And it’s not the way leaves abandon the branches they’d called home for a year.

It’s how a child who has known only bitter cold yearns for warmth once he’s experienced a season of springtime. There’s no going back, no putting that genie back into the bottle. It’s the irrevocability and finality of a season of sunshine plunged into darkness.

It’s been dark for almost two years. The phone’s been silent for almost two years. There’s been no fire in the hearth for two years.

How much longer will this season be? When will spring bring color to the trees, and imbue the wind with warmth?

I know it’s useless to ask, but sometimes I can’t help wondering. Is this the new normal? Two years on, and I’m still asking if this is what forever looks like. Is this forever, then?