17: The Air Was Made Of Vaseline – a poem by Linda Kash

The last time the hamster wheel stopped, my husband had died suddenly in a car. Everything slowed down. And I mean REALLY slowed down.
Like the air was made of Vaseline.
But at the same time, my eyes could see contrast more starkly, my lungs and heart and veins had a mic inside them, my skin... my skin... a hug was really too much.
All that I wanted for weeks and weeks was my kids in our big bed, his leather jacket, and sleep.

This virus has made the whole WORLD stow down like that It makes us panicky and really scared and then?
The calm comes.
When we surrender
When death knocks on all ours doors
to see if we’re home
We don’t let him in
And when he moves on for that day,
we focus on things we have forgotten are so good

A piano
A cat
A Book
Cutting and pasting paper
Food
Walking nowhere
Birds
Lonely friends
Bike rides
Talking gently to strangers
Having Time

We will walk for a time through the Vaseline

But I can’t help feeling that this world in pause
Will
Reveal
And remind us of
So
Much
That is
Good