Coronavirus — The View From a Baby

She has no idea. One day her mom and me and her other grandmas and grandpas will tell her about the time she was born just before the “Great Coronavirus Pandemic”. But she won’t remember it.

She won’t remember that during one of the days, when 2,000 people died and the confirmed case rate rose to close a million, 50k plus dead, how she demolished a slice of orange with her one, grippy hand, fed it to herself with her closed fist, then mashed it with her gums —( “nom,nom nom, nom} — sticky juice dripping down her tummy, all over her face and hands. Not caring about it at all. Completely present to that one moment, then the next, then the next, moment to moment to moment. Fixated on one singular goal. Grab food.Get it from hand to mouth. Destroy it anyway possible. Do not care about clean up. Smile. Next.

She won’t remember on other days that she learned to sit up, or crawl, or grab a toy, or throw a toy or bang a toy. She won’t remember the joy and laughter that her laughter at a silly dog, or a game a of peek a boo provided to grandmas and grandpas , aunts and uncles, everyone who got to “see” her albeit through a one-dimensional screen.

She is just a baby being a baby. Doing what babies do. Not “thinking” just being. Not dwelling on what’s been interrupted or lost or anything about what no longer is. Living by pure instinct, not by the expectations of the outside world or anyone in it.

And still she is perfect. She brings baby joy into the world. Nothing — not even a pandemic can stop her joy, her laughter, her unfolding. Unbeknownst to her, she spreads life and laughter just by being who she is.

She shows me that Life does go in, if we just let it. If we just bang a few toys, or anything at all. Maybe spit up once in a while. Or not care so much about cleaning up the sticky stuff. Especially nowadays.