Pods
Seed pods and pandemic pods – One is as old as forever, the other is a new convention. One is inherent in nature, the other challenges human nature.
Both are holding and protecting. Both nurture the contents within. But once the pod is opened, neither are able to do any of that anymore.
I’ve been collecting seed pods on my walks and hikes over the past few months. They’re everywhere. Perhaps this is their season to fall to the ground and why they’re more visible. They’re reminding me of my own pandemic pod, too – but how I’m trying not to fall, and how I’m becoming more invisible.
Black Locust Tree Seed Pods
Seed pods form organically and wisely. They stay together for a time – the seeds within forming a bond of collective care and cooperation, providing nourishment, protection, and quiet.
Then at some point, they decide to make the leap together from branch to ground. They let blistering winds scatter them, autumn leaves cover them, and pelting rain dissolve their bond (or get picked up by some random person!). Dormant, many seeds are alone and isolated. Only in spring will they know which ones made it. And which ones didn’t.
Eastern Redbud Tree Seed Pods
I chose to switch my pandemic pod last week to see my dying father. It was for a short while, but had longer implications. It wasn’t a hard decision, but it was, too, and it’s still hard.
Death doesn’t follow the social guidelines of pandemics. It has no obligation to following timelines, of three days of doing this, then testing after doing that, and it messes up plans that can’t be made anyway.
Grief is already self isolating and there is no protection against it. A family’s bond will risk being together for those last moments of breath, that same breath that is supposed to be covered is uncovered and held heartbeats away, not feet.
My father passed away peacefully last week at the age of 83, after suffering ten years with dementia.
Tulip Tree Seed Pods
Tulip Tree Seed Pods Petals
Honey Locust Seed Pods
He and my mother created a loving pod, our family. We were held and protected and cared for. Our pod naturally opened up, too, at some point, letting us have different experiences and create our own pods.
Returning home, returning to my own pod, I’m in isolation for a handful of days from my sweet husband. Following common sense guidelines has tilted my senses. The strong smell of disinfecting wipes on countertops; face masks muffling our words and each other’s smiles; hearing the sound of his presence more than I’m able to see him.
Though temporary, we feel scattered and dormant, like seed pods after they fall to the ground, waiting. But the seeds contain within it everything it needs – potential, protection, and resilience. We’re going to be alright.
Maybe this is how we’ll all make it through this long pandemic season.
“Pods” was originally published as an exclusive post to my Patreon supporters in December 2020. Now it’s public and available to you, too!
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