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Some Things Remain the Same

Each day my kids seem to reinvent themselves into new pandemic personalities.


Some days they try to embody the self care mindset, painting each other’s nails and slathering oatmeal masks on their cheeks. They spread towels out on the hardwood floor where they can lay while their masks dry. Carefully balancing cucumbers on their eyelids, they relax for about 30 seconds. One day they create with fury and I find the floor littered with paper scraps and washi tape tangles. They announce that every doll, every stuffed animal, every truck will have a room in their cardboard village. “But where will YOU sleep?” I ask as I notice that every surface is covered with their art.


The next day they are spent, mopey puddles of gloom and doom, melting from chairs and couches. They refuse even their favorite foods, and every suggestion is met with an eye roll and a deep sigh. Recovering and by next day, they are literally climbing the walls and bouncing from room to room. After forcing them to go outside, I check on them from an upstairs window. I can see them pressed up against the neighbor’s fence, each with an eye peeping through the spaces between the slats. I try to see what they see, but I can’t see anyone or anything in the neighbors yard. One of them has a burst of energy and wants to build a rocket ship. He drags out a plastic toy and with a little help from me and a vintage sheet tied to the top he dons his helmet and counts down to blast off. When I ask if I can join him, he tells me that there’s only room for one.

Some Thing Remain the Same is a my family's diary during the Covid-19 Pandemic.

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