Remembering life with my family in the before-times

Like memories in a snow globe

Playing at the park in the before-times

I’ve started to regard memories of my family’s day-to-day life from the before-times as distant and precious objects. To wit: I am holding a glass globe up to the light; in it, I see my daughter, Ali. It’s morning in Brooklyn, where we live, and she’s running onto the bus, calling, “You, too!,” over her shoulder, which is adorned with a My Little Pony backpack. I’ve just told her I love her and to have a good day. “Don’t forget my smoothie!”, she chirps, and then she gets on the bus, and she’s gone.

Eight hours later, when she disembarks, I greet her and slowly we make our way into our apartment building. I gulp up her her effervescent description of whatever was just happening on the bus, and she twirls up the stairs, drops her bag, takes off her shoes, washes her hands, and within minutes is ensconced blissfully on the couch, watching videos. Maybe she stops on the way to greet my husband, who is working from his home office, and/or to give kisses and cooing to Clover, our dog.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, I pour a glass of her favorite smoothie: Raspberry banana, with chocolate chips sprinkled on top. I serve it with a straw and a spoon. “Thanks, mom,” she says, as she slides from the couch to the floor to sip from it where it sits on the coffee table, which is covered in…