We’re in day, like, 34 or something here in Philly. I came back almost two weeks ago. Friends have been caring for my plants and bringing my mail inside. My neighbor across the hall has been readily available if I need anything. My friends in the neighborhood, my mama, and my siblings are in regular touch. I talk to my far away friends, I pray with/ for/ over them, I worry about my friends recovering from COVID. I wash my hands, I make sanitizer sprays with stuff around the house. I try really hard to cook as much as I can at home. Truth is, I’m tired. Everything takes so much energy, so much thought, so much planning. It sometimes feels like I’ve run out of compassion and empathy, because this time has pulled on alllllllllllll my reserves. So, I have had to turn my compassion further inward. I’ve minimized my social media usage because I don’t know what the fuck to say to y’all.
Your girl has been singing instead.
I’ve been singing to myself, my plants, my house, my forebears. Been singing to everyone and no one, about everything from Jesus bringing the sunshine to being back on my bullshit. Walking down the near-empty streets with my mask on, singing. On the phone with my homegirl, singing. Because I need to feel something good, something familiar and comforting. I need to feel myself. Family legend has it that I’ve been singing since infancy, always looking for my note, trying to match intonations and imitate runs. I remember the kids’ choir at church, blinding lights on the stage at 4732 N. Broad Street, and wanting a solo. I was too scared to sing the lead of "Silver and Gold" in 11th grade, but oh! I bodied my verse of “Come in the House” in college (altos represent)! I have always touched the deepest parts of myself with music. Whether it’s a celebration, a mourning process, or being silly with my friends, singing is my balm in Gilead. It gives me something that I don’t always get from speaking. I suppose it comes most when I sit in silence for a bit. You know, that sparkling morning sun hits a certain way. I feel caress of daylight on my face, I hear the sound of birdsong, and before I know it, I have a lil tune rising out of my own silence. It’s what I’ve got so far, while I build my life around more alone time. It’s what’s keeping me.
What’s kept you? What, if anything, is keeping you right now? It doesn’t have to be music. It doesn’t have to be quarantine-inspired epic “productivity.” Baby, we are in the middle of a fucking crisis. Whatever keeps you. Whatever restores and helps you along the way. I’m thankful for it and thankful for you, (internet) friend. Whether you know it or not, I’m rooting for you. Every time I hope I make it, I’m hoping for you. I’m wishing/ asking/ praying that your grace, compassion, and mercy are focused on you first, so you can extend them to others as needed. I’m thankful for the opportunity to share myself with you in this way. Thank you for taking the time to read.
I wish you comfort, peace, safety, and good loving.