since last wednesday

Last Wednesday, there was an earthquake in Melbourne. That same day, I was sitting in the waiting room of my GP’s clinic. I could hardly hear my GP when I saw her, her buried under layers and layers of PPE, a stark difference from the previous week. On Monday night, an unknown number burst through the silence of my phone as I rewatched The Walking Dead over J’s laksa. Nope, not answering that. An hour later, I remember that a voicemail was left. “There has been a possible case of COVID19 at our clinic. You need to get tested.” Tuesday morning, I took my second PCR test for the month, the first after a quick supermarket run also on a Wednesday, that stick up the nose like a shot of wasabi to the brain, no biggie. Client appointments were cancelled. An angry dad fumed at me for not telling him earlier as he had taken the day off work. I felt like it was the day for tests. I took another one later that night, feeling like I had nothing better to do and I needed to pee anyway. This was a different kind of test, one that I wished to be positive for the first time in my life. One lonely line appeared, no more than one. “What if there will always be just one lonely line and no more?” whispered my brain. I was surprised by my grief. It’s not like life is not tiring and hard enough that I now need to take on the responsibility of a whole other life at the age of 36. And yet, the tears fell. Grief can be clarifying. So maybe I want this. If this is so, then if you decide to come into my life, know that I want YOU. I’m waiting for YOU. Whoever you are, wherever you are, however you choose to enter my life. Perhaps on a Wednesday? I was born on a Wednesday.