Time is something I think about often these days. The time before Coronavirus, of course, the way things were. The time of corona, wondering every day how long this new normal will last. Oh how time moves now in the waking hours of the day like a sprinting marathon, both painfully slow but without a moment of rest. I wonder what this experience is like for those without children. How does the time move for you? Kevin and I like to say all the things we would be doing if we were not a changing diapers, entertaining, being clean up crew from sunrise to sunset. But then again, this time together gave us witness to Eloise’s first steps. Time has always proven most precious after all.
In passing today, in the foyer of the building, I saw my neighbor for the first time since he fled from Paris almost three weeks ago. Has it already been three weeks?... standing across the room from each other, he looked at Eloise so blissfully unaware and said, “it will be a different world for her” we both agreed for the better. It’s strange to think Eloise’s lifetime will be defined by the effects of today.
We will never be the way we were but we also can not fathom what the future holds. All we have is the time that is now, the present, as immeasurable as it has become since the clock struck twelve that Monday when our world came to a standstill... and here we are in wait.