Alone in Zoom
Black empty Zoom room.
Then a friend’s face joins – warm, like
A soft candlelight
We had scheduled this Zoom get-together weeks in advance. I ushered my kids to bed as fast and as just-patiently enough as I could, because I was the host. I wanted to open up the Zoom room in time, and I wanted to be able to focus.
I’m in the room next to their bedroom as I wait for my friends to join.
Phone pings. “Grumpy and tired, heading to bed”, writes one.
Phone pings again, “I was just typing the same thing! Kid sick and I’m tired, sorry girls!”.
Then I hear my youngest boy pleading with my daughter to help him clean up his potty, and I leave the computer, deal with the bathroom situation and return to my pc in a matter of seconds. But I’m ready to give up and just close the room.
It’s just…
Well, it’s just that it would have been so nice to even talk to one person.
And then I hear her, “hello?”
The stylish and practical yet hollow blackness of an empty Zoom room changes in an instant, as we both turn on our cameras. Her face fills only half of the camera – she joined by phone. But what do I care! She showed up. She’s here, and she is not trying to hide the fact that it’s late and she’s ready for bed.
I light up on the inside. Thank you.
The same joy-ku from above on a mint green background.
Then, another face shows up. The light in her room is dimmed, and glows softly over her.
I feel myself glow from the inside as we talk about purpose in life, and self-reflection. As one friend brushes her teeth and changes into her pyjamas, and the other talks about a doctor’s visit, we gently reach the more profound conversations. And we have flow.
I look at the screen, at how their bright faces contrast with the darkness of the zoom background and the evening sky outside my window.
And ever so fittingly, we talk about gratitude.
Thank you, my friends, for having been candles of warmth and sharing tonight. I am grateful for you, and for the friends who couldn’t make it but were still part of our story.
