Do you see that day ahead of you?
The day, we will fold our masks
And carefully caress them
As we tuck them into zip-lock bags
And set them neatly in a drawer
In a distant dresser
In the furthest room.
But, before we close the drawer,
We will stare at its contents
And summon memories:
Remember not recognizing
Old friends on the street,
Their smiles obscured by
These strange cotton veils.
Recollect the days, weeks and months
Of isolation from friends and casual acquaintances,
As well as those we cherish most.
Call up the ones who left this world alone
While we grieved their solo departures.
Cringe when recalling
Awkward Zoom meetings –
Where we stared attentively at the screen, pretending to listen,
While we secretly flicked through our emails.
Remember moments,
When we feared that
Our shrink-wrapped world would
Never expand into its fullness again.
And then, after recalling all these moments and more,
We will gently shut that drawer,
In the distant dresser
In the furthest room
And we will pray we never need open it again.
David Hanig 