and it is lockdown and I have given birth to my second child. In and out was the plan in between deep breaths and rests on the sofa due to what can only be described as panic attacks. Writing this months and months later, I recall the feeling of going to the health centre for my final midwife visit.
I’ve always loved the world-might-end-magic-saves-the-day TV shows; Buffy, Charmed, Sabrina, etc. and figured that in time I’d get my letter/spell book or enough mental power (Potter/Matilda/Matrix) I could be just like them.
This is what this 5 minute walk became. A mental exercise of moving people out of the way. Timing my footsteps to avoid passing too close. holding my breath until they had passed. This was the hysteria of the media at the time. The lack of information we had meant that everything and everyone was a threat. The post, door handles shopping, strangers running walking talking, breathing. The air was poison.
I see a woman at the top of the stairs just outside of the pharmacy which is on the side of the health centre. I pause my mask covering my face hers covering hers we are pointing torches in a cave. I don’t want to speak. I can see the bubble I am in it is pregnant with particles I’ve never met before. I just need to pass I am just on time. My yellow maternity book is in my hand, this hand is disconnecting from my brain. Grip is loosening in disorientation. what do you do when some one won’t move. Head down charge past.
The automatic door is blocked by a table; a watering can against an inferno. A man in a mask and apron points a thermometer at my head, points at hand sanitiser, heaves the table out the way and stands back, a way from me as I walk though. The room is the Hellmouth. Chairs have repelled one another. Hands in pockets, I climb the stairs with as little tred as possible. Pulling my thoughts down to my heart, I stare down over the balcony at the Hellmouth contemplating whether to take a picture for the future.
And now, now do I feel the same in November facing a winter? yes, i guess, and no, more honestly. I’m drinking Prosecco, just glad that the two girls are asleep in sync at the end of yet another day inside.