Rainy Days and Sundays (Roxy)
It hits you.
Out of nowhere.
You feel good, you think. You’re happy-ish.
You dug your way out of a sixth month slump,
a quarantine, several broken friendships, and a setback in your faith.
You survived the struggle of balancing virtual life and reality.
It’s time to start over, filling in the gaps where your “normal” used to be.
Moving forward, baby-stepping, hesitantly, questioning everything.
Because finally (the world and) you are on your feet again.
There are open signs in store windows, and students in their seats.
So many sunny days in a row, with so much to accomplish.
Just keep moving; Busy is good.
At least it used to be good, but this new forward movement
is different from any you’ve ever known.
It can’t be trusted.
In the back of your mind, tagging along with any spark of hope-
hangs a bucket of fear just waiting to drop.
So down it falls; fear and uncertainty, like the rain on Sunday.
Fear of change, isolation, and loss.
Fear that life will never be the way it was.
It is a fear so great the entire world feels it, and we hide it behind a mask.
Pretending it’s an inconvenience.
Most days the fear is just that...
An inconvenience, an ounce of doubt.
A tiny lack of confidence, or a lost bit of hope.
Most days we buck up and say, “Not today fear,”
and we push through, but today is not most days.
Today you are exhausted; mind, body, and soul.
Today you don’t feel like persevering.
Today it is raining.
And it is Sunday.