Weren't We Beautiful?

Day Five - Wild Writing

Weren't we beautiful, in the olden days,
six weeks ago, gathering on the beach,
laughing together at all the loopy dogs,
or stopping to chat in the aisles at the CoOp,
no masks, no exaggerated veering
round each other, like tugboats or frigates?

Weren't we beautiful
at the Friday seniors' socials,
doing Qi Gong, sharing poems,
gathered 'round tables, happy as ravens,
chortling like magpies?

Weren't we beautiful, thinking
the weeks would keep rolling out,
taking for granted they would all be the same,
that we wouldn't so suddenly be turned into hermits,
like Cinderella's pumpkin at midnight,
germ-conscious, wary, and oh, so vulnerable?

Wasn't it beautiful to pretend, back then,
that death lay up ahead, somewhere undefined,
not close, not stalking store aisles,
or lurking on doorknobs and grocery bags?

I remember an elderly woman, years ago,
mourning her husband's death:
"We'd sit on the patio every evening," she wept.
"Life was so beautiful, then."

It used to be my childhood years,
or my years as a young mom,
with that patina of gold, that shine.
Now it is mere months ago,
as we unknowingly went through
our last weeks of Normal,
innocent and unaware.

Life was so beautiful, then.