(Prompt from a poem by Ursula LeGuin)
I sent my daughter away today. She left me in panic and fear for our lives, not hers. We watched her drift in the doors of the airport masked like a bandit, covered like a nun, carrying all her earthly possessions from here to her Colorado home. She has spent the last five months keeping us safe, but now goes home to decide her near future.
In the silent ride home, we worried. In this time of Corona life is at risk – ours – hers – the world’s. This time is about peril and solitude. Neither element is a function of choice. They are the tremors of the times. We hide in our houses, we deface ourselves to protect one another, wanting gum because we can’t stand the confines of our own breath. We siphon energy from one another, but at a distance and can taste the fuel on our own tongues despite trying to suck the siphon line without exposure – we always get a taste.
We make half charged attempts to lift one another up, like a bucket truck working to repair broken connections when there are so many breaks further up and down the line. It will take years for the repairs to be completed, if ever. The result; lives without source, lives without power, lives caught in limbo without connective tissue holding us together.
We used to be one body – well maybe two. Different genders, so we could find one another in the night and pair up. We could connect in ways intimate and tender, lights on or off, seeking and finding heat and pleasure, yin and yang, joined and moving in unison. We could find our way there despite our profound differences of view and shape, because we are designed for connection, designed for inter-locking, designed to fit; until fitting became too dangerous. We would look for pairings, knowing they were also looking for us. We would encourage one another “find a soul mate; find a life partner, find a better half; take a lover, take a hand” now we are told to take a hike, since we cannot join without risk and no reward.
We would encourage one another “break free, go see the world, go explore your options, discover what excites you in life.” Now, we tell the futures – stay home, be safe, cover up, make sure you remain alive in a world that feels like it is dying and taking us all with it. Its heartbeat is erratic and is not a beat you can dance to, much less compose a symphony. It is the beat like a stutter. Maybe useful for a rap, when you can’t understand the machine gun of words, but you still sense the desperation.
I sent my daughter away today, not by choice but because her life demanded it. Her progress through adulting necessitates she make decisions without my interference. I sent her away not knowing in this world of peril if I will see her again. I sent her away with all assurance life would be fine in my voice and dread in my heart. I sent her away and wish I could pull her back like a brown trout at the end of a tight fly line – fighting and finally surrendering, a catch and release – a catch and release. I sent my daughter away in hopes she will be always coming home.