COVID-19 Seventeen


It’s seventeen.
It’s slipping a fabric mask with little flowers in my purse
while my mom gives me a warning about six feet apart from everyone
before I take the car keys.
It’s telling people that I’m not doing anything for my birthday,
and having calls instead of meeting up for lunch.
It’s meeting up at a lake with four friends,
masks always in sight, food split (not shared)
and cards flying from a game of Butterfly Soup.
It’s having candles on one single cupcake,
and blowing only on that cupcake, so everyone else can eat other ones.

It’s seventeen.
It’s wishing for normal when blowing out candles
for a final year in true childhood bliss.
It’s remembering last year, but not a sweet sixteen party,
but the way that I went to the movies,
and how I went to school,
and Blizzard ice cream traditions at lunch.
It’s missing trips to Target
with whoever remained in front of the school,
and feeling the warmth of hugs from friends.
It’s stressing over math formulas
instead of having formulas open note.
It’s simply wishing for normal and how things were before.

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