There is a lemon seed on the floor of my main level
bathroom. This is despite not having cooked with lemon for over a week, and
despite having cleaned the bathroom last Friday before a few friends came over, and despite telling myself I'll lean over and grab it after I wash my hands multiple times over the past four days. Each
time I head in there I think this is the time I will deal with it and
then forget by the time I leave. Once
this week I washed my hair twice in a row and another time I washed it with conditioner
because I cannot remember which has the cream top and which has the white
top. On Wednesday, Sephus found chicken in
the oven I had started the cooking the night before.
So how am I doing? I
am tired. But not didn’t get enough
sleep tired. That’s a surprising gift of
being tied to my home. It is more like "I
started running a marathon last March and I had no idea how many miles this
would end up being" tired. And also – I had
no idea that after seven solid months of running that we would get to the
hills. No one has energy left for
hills. But no one can escape the marathon
either.
I have been thinking about this analogy a lot lately – even before
watching Maggie do a hills workout out at cross country practice it occurred to
me that we were running a race with no fans. No one is on the sidelines yelling how much longer
we have or handing us water or protein gels as we pass by. Though I had already made the observation,
the momentum of it hit when I watched a little guy collapse in tears each time
he crested the hill at practice. A coach
would lift him up and give him a pep talk and he was able to make it
through another round.
I am a teacher so that’s my lens, and I could go through the
ins and outs of how very hard it is to teach other people’s kids while my own
are pulling at me with physical and emotional needs. I never quite realized how necessary leaving
my house and utilizing a new space/other caretakers was for me to turn off working
mom guilt… But that feels too unique and
indulgent and more journal than blog worthy, so let me just say that I know
everyone is struggling in their own way with how different their days continue
to look and how former support systems have been shut down.
We always tell Maggie the coolest thing about cross country
is that everyone who finishes the race is a winner. I am not sure what crossing the line will
look like or when it will happen, but I try to remind myself how good it will
feel – and that rest from the chronic turmoil our country and communities and
homes feel like they are in will come. I
am trying to find ways to be my own cheerleader, to give myself the protein
packs and water, and to shout encouragement alongside my fellow runners as we
go. Thanks for running with me – even if
you had no choice 😊.
