And the people came together. Apart and alone, they felt their common humanity. They found the joy in simple things. They looked to nature, they baked, and they sewed. They put away their cars and their planes, and they brought out their bread makers. They stopped running after money, and time, and more things. They slowed down and they walked. They went outside and they were grateful for the sun on their faces. From across the abyss, they waved and they remembered what it was to be human. Isolated and yet somehow connected, they waited like a crocus waiting for the first few warm days of spring.
We reached out and we stayed in. We feared, and we hoped, and we sheltered. And just for one moment, we laid down our weapons and looked into our hearts and our homes for the things we thought were external. We sewed masks for those who had less than us, and we shared stories of hope. We took pictures of the small miracles that showed up in our yards and we shared them as though they were the most extraordinary adventure in an exotic land. And, indeed, they were. The dolphins returned to our shores and the penguins and foxes and kangaroos ventured back into our cities. And for that one moment, we truly were, one world united.
And when the world began to open up again, there was a tiny chance. A chance to reinvent, a chance to change our destiny. The land had time to begin to heal and somewhere inside, there was a little more room in our hearts. It would be so easy to lose that small opening in the bustle of returning to what used to be. So easy to forget that, in that one moment, when we were forced to slow down, we were able to see each other with all our flaws and all our foibles and to realize how much we needed each other.