The contradiction in terms,
New traditions begun in strange times
The New Normal
feels, well, kind of as normal as I expect by now.
Readjusting the scale of our world,
Some things are still strange—Faces
on the small screen, rather than hugs
and holding hands, sitting on the couch with tea
—but this was the distance
we signed up for, before we knew
That even annual visits might not be possible.
Lots of traditions are inherited,
shaped by the past and the love of home
[Like becoming the baker of fruitcakes to be sent in cardboard parcels
in the post, and Christmas pud, stacked
with silver pennies to make it like Granny’s,
and comical baubles to put on the tree].
But some are ours, formed while sealed away
In the heartache of the pandemic, we’ve grown
Put down roots
Formed some traditions that are our own.
While I hold to the old,
I celebrate and bloom with the new.