Waiting For Growth by Kristen Obarsky
ACCC Pandemic Arts Journal Submission
Submitted by: Kristen Obarsky
Title: “Waiting For Growth”
#ACCCPandemicArtsJournal
View all of the ACCC Pandemic Arts Journal Entries.
A chorus of enchanting and eager bird songs invite me outside. As I emerge onto the back porch the spring weather blasts my face, delivering a stiff and slicing cold wind. Not yet, and I retreat back inside.
Once upon a time inside was my domain. As an introvert, I would say, “I’m a homebody, it’s my thing.” It’s not “my thing” anymore. I long for the pleasures of the outside world. I crave that closeness to my friends and their supportive and comforting warmth. That warmth, like a slowly chewed caramel candy and how its sweetness coats your mouth and lingers and leaves a prolonged satisfaction.
It is May 18th, 2020 and the Governor’s orders are slowly and cautiously subsiding. I round up three kids into the dusty car and leave for a morning errand to DMV. It’s been a couple of homebound weeks and on my drive I witness thousands gentle and elegant chartreuse leaves unfolding. I drive past the Arboretum for a glimpse of tulips in their revelry. I steal glances yellow and red colored flowers that stand together in the whipping wind. They show prudence by closing up their petals. Their petals like guarded walls protect their vulnerable insides.
Overall, the atmosphere is subdued, except at the DMV, where cars queue up at the drive thru. A driver gets cut off and out comes a red-faced portly man from his car and lambasts this offending perpetrator, but the perpetrator is Great-Granny and she is hard of hearing. She gingerly opens her car door with a frail and pale hand to hear more intently. Through the cracked door the man’s saliva nearly spews from his screaming jaws. I feel uncomfortable.
Then the man stomps back to his car trunk and fumbles around for something hidden. I only think, “Is he getting a gun?” and my body gets clammy and nervous. To my surprise, seconds later he pulls out a fully loaded caffeinated beverage. I’m left befuddled. After I renew my tabs, I’m too disturbed and I just want to go home. I truly thought he was going to kill her and I feel ashamed, do I no longer have the purity to think good of people?
These oscillating emotions: inside vs outside. Where outside is beautiful, but dangerous, and inside is safe, but lonely. And then I can’t stop ruminating on death. I do a daily check on death counts. I’m scared. It is not that I check on death, but death checks on me.
Vigilant angels perform their record keeping of my actions and inactions and I am terrified, there is no place to hide. No mask, no vaccine, nothing can stop death, my death. This rumination prompts me. It prompts me to make my day meaningful, however I can in the confines of my home. I try leaving small seeds of kindness and pray it is enough and I worry it could never be enough. But seeds grow and bloom and are beautiful. Through this storm I keep praying and I keep planting those seeds.
