It feels like a hand clearing off the top of a desk in one single motion.

One of the most frustrating aspects of shepherding my children along their remote learning journey is the fact that despite my “free time” while remote learning is happening — which I think we can all agree is a complete fallacy — is that I can’t easily switch over my mind to anywhere near a productive place. Therefore, I live in a netherworld of snack prep, too much phone use, wandering the length of the house back and forth using every single drop of energy I have to be so patient — creative, spontaneous, flexible — while pleading for one or both of my kids to write a few words down on paper while one (or both!) of them lay on the floor, whining and writhing.

I start to cry and I can’t stop. M hands me a tissue. Pia collapses into my lap, feeling sorry now that she yelled so loud at me.

Not all days are like this.

I am grieving the life that used to be mine, small as it was. I am crying for my freedom from this apartment with no doors, this place that can hold me so cozy and also sometimes feel like a box being closed. I am longing for the subway, worried that my career, such as it is, is evaporating or maybe is already long gone.

I get excited to learn something new. That’s all I wanted from today.