I wake up, it's April 1st
It should be like any other April 1st,
the weather shifting from cold to warm, to cold, as Mother Nature cannot make up her mind just yet
Green stems peeking out from under soft soil, damp from the rain before sunrise
sound filling the air is of sweet blue jays and the occasional hummingbird buzzing by
Children down the street are drawing on the sidewalk with brightly colored chalks, while their parents talk about Easter plans
A sense of excitement, of new beginnings as the winter blues melted away with the snow
But today is not that April 1st.
I'm woken by hail, pounding down on this rusted cabin roof
The air is stale and weighs heavy in my lungs
the birds are bustling about as usual, but instead of sweet melodies, I'm irritated at their noisiness
No sign of children playing,
no sign of parents making weekend plans
When my eyes finally do catch another person
Its fear and uncertainty filling their eyes
it's wearing a mask so they don't breathe in the same air as I
it's wearing tightly fitted gloves on both hands
It's the strong stench of disinfectant we both bathed in prior to stepping out our own door
It's locking eyes, not from an beautiful human connection, but in pleads to keep your distance
It's a world I do not recognize
all remnants of a different time, all dreams, and all futures have been stashed away
put in a box and shoved under a bed for safe keeping
praying tomorrow we can dig them back out,
dust them off,
and the world we remember will come pouring out of them