In a few years,
I will remember the big things
that happened to us,
how we started eating
at the dining room table,
the hope signs we taped to trees,
and how my kids homeschooled
without ever
wearing pants.
But I will also forget so much,
like the way I was irritated in a mild way
for so long,
or how sad I felt
every time a shop or restaurant
closed for good
and that no funeral was held
for those dreams.
And I will forget so much of the beauty too,
that collected over these months,
little moments
like leaves
that will eventually blow away.
And so it is that I have begun
photographing one small thing,
my daughter’s stuffed pig,
and how she spends hours on her own
cutting up old socks
into outfits for him
for all their pretend adventures.
I am going to make a small book
of all the photos,
and one day her kids will ask me about it,
and I will say,
That was the pandemic
and we couldn’t go anywhere
so your mom
took her friend Pig
and they went
everywhere instead.