Amongst all the chaos and all the fear, we must stop and acknowledge the beautiful things too. This will all feel harder if we don’t.
The world is talking more and wasting less. We’re making meal plans and using leftovers and cooking with care. We are learning how it feels to have food and money and freedom taken away.
We’re driving fewer cars and walking more. We’re opening windows and craving fresh air.
We are slowing things down and getting bored. We are being creativeand sharing ideas. We’re celebrating small wins.
We are thinking about our health and the health of people we don’t even know. All of our actions are now for the greater good.
We are connecting with others, despite the closed doors and the empty streets. We’re checking in with friends and neighbours and asking, “Is there anything you need?”
We are learning it’s okay to feel scared.
We’re leaning how the internet can be used for good. It is strengthening communities and building friendships that we hope will last longer than the virus that brought us together.
We are rallying round. We are doing our bit. We are offering help where we can. We are rooting for grass roots businesses and front-line workers, and proclaiming their worth. We’re standing beside our neighbours and applauding the NHS in the streets.
We’re thinking about how we’ll come out the other side, with a fire in our hearts. We’re already hatching plans to breathe life back into our cafes and shops and theatres and schools. We will hug and kiss and dance with the people we meet and hold long conversations over mugs of tea and pints of beer. We will remark how our loved ones have changed and mourn together the ones that we lost. And at some point, way into the future, we’ll wonder if perhaps we dreamt this. But we’ll know that we didn’t because the world will feel different. We will all feel different. We’ll be stronger and tighter, more tenacious and more gracious than ever before.
And that will be the most beautiful thing of all.
