The Call

You call at the oddest of times

driving down the highway or

racing to a meeting. I want

to reach out, let you know I hear but

the road keeps moving and the

pace, too fast. Besides,

stopping is hard.

You used to call more, years ago

when I was young. I felt you

then, a visceral sense of

standing on a cliff, waiting

for the right moment to step out. 

You filled me with possibility and wonder but

the what ifs grew too big. I got scared. 
I got older.

And now, times have changed. The world has changed.

We are alone and together

with fears abundant.  While the road

no longer drives the pace

our minds still hustle 
for control              I park the car.

I place my feet on the ground. Silence

surrounds and my ears strain to hear, wanting, waiting:

Tell me what to do, who do be, where to go, how to live. 
Tell me! Tell me!

And then,

what if?

What if I don’t hear?

What if I don't understand?

What if there's nothing?

I drive on

the silence

too great

to trust.

What if?

Today under Garry Oaks, draped

in Lichen and Moss; leaves vibrant

against a bruised sky, I hear the call.

I stop. Stillness seeps into my heart.

There are no words.

There is no need.

There is no do.

I’m here.

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Yet Still

7 p.m.

If Only for a Moment

On my morning walks I pass few, if any people. I am blessed with living next to a rural area so my company is usually the ravens and robins, cows and the occasional llama.  But ever so often I do meet people and we quickly, almost intuitively decide who is best suited to create distance. The other day, for example, I was nearing home when up ahead I spied a mom and dad toting three kids—a baby and two toddlers. To my left was impassable brambles and to my right, a normally busy road that separates my neighbourhood from the farms. And while not full of its usual traffic, the byway was certainly not empty. The choice for me, as it would have been for anyone, was obvious; I went out into the street to give them clear distance.

Now while there was nothing heroic in this deed, it was the mother’s response that made me almost drop to my knees. All she said was “thank you” but it was as if I had been swept over by a tsunami of emotions. I not only felt her gratitude but all that lay beneath her simple thanks: the worries and fears; the days stretching to weeks and months, the kids and their future, the lack of work and school, the unpaid bills, a partner falling ill … dying.

From the wave that came over me it felt like she had been holding on to all these unknowns and uncertainties for days, maybe weeks. Perhaps sharing them with her partner, perhaps not, but swimming in the mire of quarantine confusion just looking for a rope, any kind of rope, to pull herself out. I doubt she saw me as a life line or was even looking for a willing container to hold her emotions but in those few moments of receiving what I felt to be inside her, we gifted each other with a shared sense of humanity.

In this time of isolation and fear, we can do much for others, and ultimately ourselves, with the simplest of deeds. Let us not forget how much a phone call, a word of thanks, a smile can do to. If only for a moment, our actions can provide the courage for another to keep going, to take the next step. If only for a moment, our hearts can open and we are forever changed. If only for a moment, our humanity can shine through and continue to expand into the next. If only for a moment ...

 

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