Scars and Buds
by Sharon Daly
On an afternoon walk the other day I noticed the ground was littered with pieces of bark. Looking up, I saw where they had come from. The large tree had a visible scar where the bark had been stripped away.
Since schools closed a month ago due to the pandemic, I have been reading daily articles that speak to the impact COVID -19 has had on the way we live and the measure of our days. One story profiled how much our awareness of noise has changed. Familiar sounds have disappeared and new sounds have taken their place. Another article discussed the inherent inequities in virtual education and, specifically, about the problem with assessing our most vulnerable students. Distance learning widens opportunity gaps for kids who already struggle to be successful in school. Many students live with food insecurities, lack internet connection, and do not have the home support needed to flourish in an altered world of online instruction. What will be the takeaways from this when we return to the traditional brick and mortar structures? Will old educational blueprints be altered in order to devise new constructs that will better serve the hearts and minds of students?
I also read a story about the new social restrictions placed on residents at nursing homes and the intense isolation of the elderly. I have a ninety-six-year-old father in a senior residence a few blocks away from me. Since the pandemic hit, the distance feels like 3000 miles. When I visit now, I see people standing outside the building, trying to converse with loved ones through closed windows. Those images will remain long after the current crisis ends.
There has been a proliferation of home cooking and baking in this time of ‘sheltering in place’ and no shortage of bloggers and Instagrammers modeling techniques for turning out photo-worthy pans of cinnamon rolls, loaves of fragrant bread, and other comfort food. I have had time to reorganize and sort piles of recipes saved over the years. Some were resurrected from misplaced folders and welcomed like old friends. Others were discarded for having never been used and no longer appealing. As my piles condensed I wondered if the desire to cull my collection had a deeper meaning. Did I hope for a recipe that would ensure a successful outcome to this pandemic? Was there a set of directions that would achieve a return to a functioning society?
On that afternoon walk, as I looked down at the fragments of bark and gazed upward to the scarred trunk and the branches spreading out above me, signs of spring were evident. Tear-dropped shaped buds emerged where new growth will occur, just as fibrous connective tissue forms over wounded skin. What new understandings will emerge for us in the fallout of COVID-19? What offshoots will develop and flourish?
The tree stands muted. We must listen to its sonorous awakening.
Visiting the Elderly
At long-term care facilities
and senior residences
you must comply with
emergency orders
and lists of printed restrictions.
No kissing through screens!
No hugging through open windows!
Wave to the most vulnerable:
grandmothers, grandfathers,
aunts, uncles, mom, and dad
Recommendations include:
send cards, (with positive messages only)
include a joke or two
use virtual chats
call and connect
The potential is high for rapid spread
but stay in touch, please!
Stand outside. Look up,
through panes of dusty glass.
See the silhouette of a familiar face…
…and wave.
Looking for Direction
Sorting through recipes
torn, stained, lost, remembered, found
— no recipe for this
