The following article was written by American writer Allison Glock, whose articles have been published in the New York Times, The New Yorker, Esquire, The Rolling Stones, GQ and others.
My 19-year-old daughter sits opposite me at the table, her eyes filled with many question marks. She is struggling, like all of us, with the existential purgatory where we are finding ourselves. We do not know when it will end, or how it will end, or what impact it will have on us as humans, as a country.
My daughters, like other endless people in the world, have changed routine and disconnected from friends. Their lives shook and they turned to parents who, on the other hand, do not know what is coming.
They read the newspapers, are informed by phone. I personally know many doctors and nurses who are fighting in the front line of battle. They feel the worry in the air. I have to do my best to calm them down.
I tell the 19-year-old girl that I realize she feels lost, empty. I remind them how lucky we are. All together. That we have a dog. That we love each other. That we have the opportunity to embrace.
I also say I think a lot about grandparents. When I was young, I would always see them playing cards with each other, picking up crosswords, dancing together in the room, watching television.
My family comes from Appalachia. Grandparents lived in a home in a small industrial town in Virginia. They were walking on the same sidewalks, sitting in the same places, singing while washing dishes, doing some gossip. A simple life that came from a lack of opportunities.
Although so simple, it was beautiful. Now I believe their words. They knew what it was worth. Grandpa served in the war. Even my grandmother. They saw death, vanity, heroism and loss. They knew what really mattered.
We'll have to find the motivation in small things, I tell the other girl. In the moments. After long, messy hours, we will sit down and find the meaning of life in peace.
Or at least, accept that nobody promised us the next day.
I understand the situation. I want to cry, smoke, just hang out. But instead, take a shower, drink coffee, put on lipstick.
When I go out of the bathroom, the girls are in the yard, lying on a blanket and reading together. I look out the window. The sun shines on their faces. The birds keep flying. There are flowers around.
