2 years unmoored

I miss the time before 
we all went inside and closed our doors. 

I miss who we were 
two years ago.
Innocent, unafraid,
careless, hopeful, energetic and silly.

I miss not knowing
so many opinions from others.

I miss lighthearted friendships
unworried by stances
or beliefs.

I miss sweet little girls and friends
curled up beside me on a Sunday morning
brimming with hugs and giggles
cheerful greetings and whispers close to my ear.

I miss untimid embraces
laughter
cheek kisses.
I really, really miss
thrice cheek kisses.

I miss lipstick.
I don’t even like lipstick.
I miss lipstick.

I miss a child who was seven
and now is almost double digits.
I miss things I missed with him:
soccer seasons and trips to the city pool.
Ten is just old.

I miss parties
with too many people
too much food
and too much noise.

I miss planning
without a backup plan.

I miss a crowded house
unexpected visitors
unplanned shared dinners
or coffee.

I miss a giant bowl of hummus
pita scooping
dripping with olive oil.

I miss all that money
that disappeared
into a big healthcare deductible.

I miss knocks at the front door
from kids who want Pokemon bandaids
but have no wounds.

I miss friends
who are somehow just not around
anymore.

I miss a shared red napkin.

I miss the trampoline
and the cherry tree.

I miss old thermometers
that go in your mouth
and require you to wait
for the answer.

I miss out of town visitors.
There have only been two
in two years.

I miss three year olds
who are now almost six.
I missed four and five.

I miss two friends
whose funerals I couldn’t attend
and never will. 

I miss so many godchildren.

I miss casseroles
spooned out creamy goodness
shared, shared, shared.

I miss wedding photos
prom photos
camp photos.

I miss the days when I could savor
and when the time before
seemed like normal time
and the savor time still seemed novel.

I miss grabbing lunch with a colleague
just because.

I miss not knowing words like
mRNA
ECMO
Oximeter.

I miss what college used to be like.

I miss a college campus.

I miss not worrying
that being unmoored
would be met with criticism
that fatigue might be called fear
that fear might be called bad.

I miss not wondering
if this is what people feel like
during a war.

I miss not feeling guilty
for wondering.

I wonder what is next. 

-EEM February 3, 2022