Before and After (a poem)

Before and after

There’s this thing going around about
how we should not want to go back
to “normal” because what came before
should be – upon reflection – forsaken.
I don’t know what your normal looked like
before, but as for me, I can’t wait to
have an unplanned conversation
with a colleague by the coffee machine
as we hover waiting our turn, stand on
the sidelines with the other soccer moms,
go to the Word Barn crowded with lovers
of poetry and listen elbow to elbow
in rapt attention to a local writer
rap about random shit, sip wine as we listen
fully and nod, walk miles back and forth
with the waves and a hundred other
beach walkers on Long Sands, browse
aimlessly in an indie bookshop – touch
every interesting cover, then wait
in the café for my husband, who will take
twice as long to peruse the biographies –
warm a seat in the back of the sanctuary,
sing loudly, pass communion to my sisters
and brothers, meet up later with friends
in Prescott Park, smell all the flowers.
feel the briny breeze, and so much more,
so much more. I think that day
I walk back through the front door
of my workplace, I may just
burst out in tears of joy
for the missing of my normal.