The Diminutive Form of Sarah

Missing the days of summer activities coming to a close
in air-conditioned oases;
of falling asleep on cool sheets under ceiling fans
to Alexa’s thunderstorm sounds;
of resting in peace & dreams,
knowing that the Ring will BOLO for trespassers,
porch pirates,
& all manner of opportunists.
Missing the days of piping hot food
& ice-cold drinks;
of barbecue leftovers in the oven
& banana pudding ice cream,
frozen solid;
missing the days of being blasted 
by the cold dark from the freezer
& bathed by the cool light from the fridge.
Missing the days of glassware that sparkles
& freshly-laundered clothes.
Missing the days of entering a warm shower
& exiting a cool one.
Missing the days of switches instead of wicks,
the security of half-full gas tanks,
& streetlights that banish the creeping, creepy night-dark.
Missing the days of waking up recharged,
with devices fully charged.

Life seems to stop
when the power stops:
For some,
it does,
for others,
time simply passes more slowly:
broken up by weather updates
& neighborhood watch texts—
like x’s on calendars
or dots on a timeline.
Some serve others,
while others wait for service;
still others simply leave
because they can,
taking their face coverings with them
to avoid the Godless wrath of Covid—
an unseen force jockeying with this other unseen force
to be the star of the 24/7 news programming.
In the back of our minds,
we all are pacing
in Life’s Waiting Room—
that most frustrating place to which we all go,
discovered in the lab of Dr. Seuss’s imagination—
except this space is muggy-hot & pitch-black,
dispelled only by the whisper of a breeze
or the flicker of a candle,
& we are suddenly aware of all 
that goes on behind the scenes
to improve our quality of life.

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