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From the writing group

10-minute free writes inspired by weekly prompts

What it used to be like

by Michelle Hynes

What it used to be like to see my friends: A festival of baking and hosting and hugging. Pouring tea. Sharing bites.

Yesterday I gathered with dear ones — on Zoom. We lamented the loss of rituals for this time of year. The ways we used to see our families, see each other. Now reduced, smaller. More spacious and less nourishing — like eating sponge cake rather than a rich bite of brownie or beef stew.

What we shared yesterday were tears. Stories of grief and loss. And then we took a deep breath and said yes to a new way. We will gather. We will gift. But six feet apart.

So many things about “what it used to be like” are ripe for letting go. I know we need new ways. And I desperately want the feeling of holding my friends in my arms, leaning on their shoulders, looking at the horizon together. I want what it used to be like. 

The First Thing I Remember

by Hao Tran

It is the thing that I have forgotten. It is a soft rain, so soft you can’t see the drops. You only feel its cold and moist touch on your skin, enough to dampen your hair, your shirt.

“It is dew,” my brother says.

He notices the puzzled look on my face. I remember now. It has been more than forty years since I last felt the dew in the early morning. The time of day in the tropics, same every day. The roosters crow and then the sun rises, at six o’clock. Everyday.

You can count on it. In the dew, people walk with baskets balanced on bamboo sticks, up and down, bouncing toward the market. They carry cabbages, potatoes, mangos. In this dew, children get ready for school. In this dew, Ma cooked me my favorite breakfast: rice left over from the day before, turned over in the frying pan with browned shallots, a few peas, and an egg.

In this dew, I am puzzled–where have I been all these years, so long that I have forgotten the simplest thing that I should remember? Dew! It feels like home. It is moist and soft, like a caress.

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