Dear World,
Each brutal headline makes me wince. There’s been no
end of it these days.
︎
It rained the day my husband got furloughed.
Coronavirus was the mentioned cause. It was just after a Skype call training a volunteer for a non-profit he’d spent close to four years with, when that email came. My first reaction was worry for my husband. I knew how passionate he was about the project he had helped set up in a remote wind blasted corner of the Caucasian highlands to assist local shepherds. And then, an undeniable slow rising bitterness at the tactless choice of words commanding him to suspend all work and not expect pay till the virus eased.
This, regardless of the fact work had moved online for everyone else. We both knew it was a long due sign of brewing ethical differences at work that had simmered too long. My toddler asked to go out. Despite the rain, I agreed. Watching her run in the puddles filled with rain made me think of the long open roads we had cycled to get to where we now live.
Our love for wide open spaces and lonely roads made us pack all we needed for two years of cycling across countries we could once barely point out on the map. That was once. Now we have settled it seems. With a child. And a cat. And plans to build a home in a foreign land we’ve grown to love.
Bad news gets to me. My insides twist for days on end reading heart-wrenching stories online. I fear hate and news of it. The planet and it’s most vulnerable in need. Each brutal headline makes me wince. There’s been no end of it these days. My therapy lies in counting my blessings. And searching for beauty in little things.
While it might seem cliché, I haven’t had to look far of late. My child is its source. I’m often amused watching her imitate us on little things. But her unbound spontaneous joy in discovering life’s simple thrills is one so primeval; it must be rekindled in us all. Stones to be chucked in still stagnant pools, dandelions to be puffed, trails to be run and trees to be climbed; we must all take a break from arduous tasks - like this open note - to bounce on springy things.
My husband quit his job. And we are happier this way. After the rains, we know there will always be blue skies and puddles to splash.
Sincerely,
Each brutal headline makes me wince. There’s been no
end of it these days.
︎
It rained the day my husband got furloughed.
Coronavirus was the mentioned cause. It was just after a Skype call training a volunteer for a non-profit he’d spent close to four years with, when that email came. My first reaction was worry for my husband. I knew how passionate he was about the project he had helped set up in a remote wind blasted corner of the Caucasian highlands to assist local shepherds. And then, an undeniable slow rising bitterness at the tactless choice of words commanding him to suspend all work and not expect pay till the virus eased.
This, regardless of the fact work had moved online for everyone else. We both knew it was a long due sign of brewing ethical differences at work that had simmered too long. My toddler asked to go out. Despite the rain, I agreed. Watching her run in the puddles filled with rain made me think of the long open roads we had cycled to get to where we now live.
Our love for wide open spaces and lonely roads made us pack all we needed for two years of cycling across countries we could once barely point out on the map. That was once. Now we have settled it seems. With a child. And a cat. And plans to build a home in a foreign land we’ve grown to love.
Bad news gets to me. My insides twist for days on end reading heart-wrenching stories online. I fear hate and news of it. The planet and it’s most vulnerable in need. Each brutal headline makes me wince. There’s been no end of it these days. My therapy lies in counting my blessings. And searching for beauty in little things.
While it might seem cliché, I haven’t had to look far of late. My child is its source. I’m often amused watching her imitate us on little things. But her unbound spontaneous joy in discovering life’s simple thrills is one so primeval; it must be rekindled in us all. Stones to be chucked in still stagnant pools, dandelions to be puffed, trails to be run and trees to be climbed; we must all take a break from arduous tasks - like this open note - to bounce on springy things.
My husband quit his job. And we are happier this way. After the rains, we know there will always be blue skies and puddles to splash.
Sincerely,
Hopelessly Dreaming of a Better World
About the photographer: I'm a Tbilisi based freelance video journalist and photographer who was just getting back to work when coronavirus struck and postponed all plans and put our life on hold.
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P.S. These images help remind us so much beauty still left on earth.
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P.S. These images help remind us so much beauty still left on earth.
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