by Ann Harte O’Toole
As I lay on my bed this morning. I looked out at the grey sky. A large old tree from the green across the road reached up to touch it. The tree is void of leaves. The birds busied themselves collecting bits and pieces to make nests. They are getting ready to make a home for their new family. The grey sky is like a blind.
It will change, will lift, and a more colourful, cheerful sky will emerge. In time the virus will vanish from our lives. We who lived through the virus will never forget it. Our lives will never be the same. Maybe the virus will be like the grey sky. A more colourful, caring slower life will emerge. From suffering people will learn empathy. We will think more of the suffering of other people, in this country and abroad. We will have time to pray. To meditate. We will have more money to give to people who need it.
We will appreciate our friends, going for a coffee, going to the shops, going to a hotel for a night. Going to the cinema. Attending funerals and weddings. Shaking a hand. Giving a hug. Walking the beach, watching the ocean coming and going. Concentrating on the flow of the river as it flows across large rocks on its way to the sea. We will mend and recycle our clothes. We will learn not to waste food.
We will again be able to see a laugh and a smile on a naked face. People will no longer have to cry behind the mask that we wore throughout this virus. We will know who we are and get to know whom we live with. We will know who our true friends are. People have learned new skills. Artists and pianists will emerge as a result of the virus.
