Quick Write 5/24/22

Sitting at their desks, in the quiet before the storm,
They listened to their teachers. They looked back on a lessening pandemic year,
With parents and grandparents and friends finally within touch.
They sat at their desks in a classroom. The last day of school
They looked forward to summer to freedom to playing and to time with friends
In a lessening pandemic year.
They felt safe.
Children.
Someone’s child.
Someone’s sister. Someone’s brother
Someone’s best friend.
Someone’s everything.
Someone knew these children from birth
And held them and kissed them and snuggled them and treasured them.
Maybe they were lucky at home and had meals everyday
And had parents who knew where they were all the time
And had friends who cared if they talked to them and played with them and ate with them.
Maybe they were less lucky and had one parent or one person who looked after them.
Maybe they were happy to be in school because the other place they could be was not as good.

But they were all together in the classroom. All together at the same time.
And then they weren’t. They were not spared. They were suddenly not safe.
They were suddenly not children. First they were, then they weren’t.
And someone might not have been a mother any more. Or a father.
Can we be parents if we don’t have children?

And then it was over.