I imagine, I hope

I sit listening to memories

I imagine them here,

I hope for their presence.

The absence of little feet and chatter as they play in the Baby Shark tent

or kick balls across the alphabet mat, leaves a silence and

I am grasping to remember those days

I imagine them here,

I hope for their presence.

This empty clinic,

lit by late sun rays and not the light that twinkled

in their eyes when they played,

is dank and dark

lacking the balance of joy and imagination.

How did I ever wish for a moment that their distraction

would settle into silence and they would quieten themselves?

I imagine them here,

I hope for their presence.

For indeed I know it is their absence,

the children in our office,

I miss most.

They balanced my need to organize,

logicize

and my endless pursuit to get things done.

I imagine them here,

I hope for their presence.

Their little faces, cries of delight or sometimes

fear of the doctor

were welcome disruptions that called my attention

To stop

To interact

Become a child with them in play

or engage them in this place we had created as “safe”

Safe?

Empty space, you have lost your centre and your breath.

Voices and faces seen only on screen

A suitable option, a reasonable fix—virtual care

for now, because

You have lost your purpose, your future, and past

in the emptiness of now

until the children return.

For they are indeed the balance

of light to dark,

mundanity to JOY

So, I leave

I shut the lights, close the door, almost …

I look back

To our empty space.

I imagine them here,

I hope for their presence.

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