elizabethlevett

In You I Find My Rest

Sometimes I find myself calling this the spring of our discontent. I was doing okay. Really. I have a fairly reassuring routine of gardening, lesson planning, meetings online, walking, reading, music. But sometimes there is something gnawing at me and it won’t let me go.

It’s not the restrictions to going into restaurants or shops. It’s not that I have to wear a mask that makes my ears stick out. It’s not the constancy of horrifying news – I’ve seen horrifying news before. It’s not even my frenzy of sanitizing everything – doorknobs, trash can lids, even the bottoms of my shoes. Restrictions are not the worst thing that can happen. Anne Frank had to hide in silence for two years. They got her anyway.

It’s the not knowing and the not touching. It’s the fear and the lack of touch – the touch that reassures when fear becomes panic. Even sea otters hold hands when they feel threatened or even just to keep from floating away in the dark.

I lose myself staring at the shifting patterns of light on a foxglove or the exquisite shapes in a pitcher of carnations on the table. Everything is fine here, I say. And really, it is. I have a wonderful partner. Turns out, he’s even an amazing roommate. We invite friends for a walk or a visit out in the garden. Even a few of my little students come by to say hello. This is a definite step up from the 2-inch squares of faces on the screen during our daily zoom meetings. But it’s not the same as leaning in while they work on their writing when I can whisper words of encouragement in the proximity of the classroom. It’s not the same as letting them collapse into me when they cry. And it’s nowhere near the bliss of a spontaneous playground hug.

The routine is reassuring, yes. But sometimes there simply is no comfort to be found in this. Because we have no idea what will come next, or how long this will last. There is where the discomfort lies. Sometimes I realize that I haven’t breathed deeply yet today, haven’t laughed out loud. Sometimes there is nothing to set my heart racing but a panic attack. And I just want to hold hands, lest I float away in the dark.