Slice of Life/Day in a Poem (Day 13): Two Years In

(This is for the Slice of Life challenge, hosted by Two Writing Teachers. We write on Tuesdays about the small moments in the larger perspective and then all through March — every single day  …  You write, too.)

Time Passes Slowly

Two Years In and Counting

Peace (two years, and counting),

  1. Two years and counting. I was looking through my camera roll yesterday to a photo of the last time I sat and lingered in my local coffee shop–two years ago. I’m glad I snapped a photo of my latte. The place was packed, and I remember sitting there savoring being there, knowing everything was shutting down, wondering how many weeks it would be before I’d be back. You’ve written a powerful poem here–I thought the question in the last two lines was especially poignant.

  2. It’s a date I’ll remember, for sure, and I appreciate your poem about it. What is normal seems like it’s evolving.

    Someone shared a folder of memes from the first several months after 3/13/20. I’d forgotten how funny some of them were– one person was clinking glasses with himself in the mirror!

  3. Two years ago…so much has changed since then. Thanks for sharing this poem about that day. I ask myself your ending question everyday.

  4. This week in March evokes so many memories. I am hopeful that we are going to return to normal some day soon but I recall reading after my mother passed away that you don’t return to normal but you learn to adjust to the new normal. Perhaps we will at least do that.

  5. Two long years…so much “endlessly disrupted.” How succinctly you capture the great curiosity that is time, which “passes slow/then comes quick” – it does exactly that. Yesterday was the first time I went into a grocery store without a mask, too – it WAS weird. For what IS normal, any more? You capture it all, Kevin.

  6. Today is day 731 for me. I’ve not been anywhere with other people except for Dr and Dentist. We still wear masks if we are near others, which Scott is for his work sometimes.

    It’s sad to me that we as a people are not willing to protect one another.

    I just thought we were better than this, because it’s not going away, and many people will not fare well when it attacks them, including my granddaughter— and it makes little sense so far as to how or why this is, young or old, though we have some clues.

    Most of us still “worry about what’s spilling out of this world.” So your poem is a reflection of many, a poet’s task.

    Take care. Make art. Make music. It makes hope. 🙂 ~ Sheri

  7. Tomorrow my school goes mask optional…2 years and 1 day after we closed on that Friday the 13th.

    I love the way the word “sick” sits on the end of that second stanza…belonging to both the second and third stanzas (at least in my mind).

    Normal is not going back, so what will the next days bring?

  8. Thank you for the reminder, I’d been so busy Sunday, it did’t register with me, what day it was. So much has changed and so little too and your stanza “with worry about what’s spilling out of this world” so poignant in so many ways.

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