Anna Bozena Bowen: As a poet, author of the awards winning novel HATTIE, and a retired nurse, my writing focuses on the multidimensional aspects of our human and spiritual lives. I live in Hampshire County, enjoy cooking, food and wine, and love travelling to Napa and Maui. annabozenabowen.com
Some mornings I don’t recognize my face.
My hair longer, the waves and curls on their own
wayward journey around my face. Is it my face?
Are those my eyes, my nose, my lips?
I don’t reach for the mascara and eye pencil,
or the blush compact and lipstick like I did
before the virus took hold of our daily routine.
The house stays cleaner longer. There are only
two of us. Me and him. Him and me. Two of us.
No one else comes into our home like they used to.
No one else sits at our dinner table like they used to.
Then I was a good cook, now I prepare meals like a chef.
Meals I take photos of and post on Facebook
where I exist socially. Where I share virtual hellos
and goodbyes, hearts and hugs, and bits of wisdom.
I am grateful for the connection we share
at this time of loneliness in a virtually focused world.
Him and me. Me and him. Two of us. Even so,
skin hunger is a challenge. And children
and grandchildren begin to feel like figments
of our imagination. And some friends come
closer while other friends distance so far
we may never come back to each other.
Somedays I don’t recognize my face. On those days
I wait for him to remind me of me. I wait
for our Virtual Cocktail Get-togethers with friends.
We clink wine glasses to say hello. How are you?
They make me feel real in a world that changes daily.
Make me remember what date it is, what day it is,
and who my face belongs to.