Everybody Worries About Something

Everybody worries about something.

For me right now, I worry about whether I will be able to play the seven songs assigned to me by my piano teacher.

A friend I know worries about the restaurant she’s running. Will she have enough customers to pay her bills and her kids’ tuition?

A friend I know worries about the lack of students in her English school. She still needs to pay the teachers but her income is depriving.

Another friend in another continent worries about his aging parents here. Being apart thousands of kilometers has never been this safe, and scary in the same time.

Another friend worries about the money she has paid to her daughter’s school. She has to print all materials and teaches her daughter by herself, but why does the school keep charging her?

A former employee worries about what to feed his family. I have no idea since I myself am lacking income these days. I had to let him go because there hasn’t been any project coming my way, only projects cancelled.

My kids worry about when they will be able to go to school again. They miss their teachers, their friends, their classrooms, the canteen, the playground, the library, the basketball court. And the list goes on.

My parents worry about when they will be able to go to hospital again to consult their doctors and get their medications. The future looks bleak to them and any contact with people is accompanied by fear for their lives.

Compared to their worries, mine looks like nothing important. I worry about playing the right melodies, while others I know worry about their shrinking bank account. I worry about failing to play the songs, while others I know  worry about their families.

It’s not that I don’t worry about those important things. I choose to worry about mundane things, like what we will eat tomorrow. The choice is actually abundant, when I open the fridge I should worry not.

It’s easy to let my peace get robbed away. Tune in to the TV, log in to some news sites, and anxiety will sweep over me like a tsunami.

I worry about those who have hunger, who lose their loved ones, who cannot be with their sick family member, who lose jobs, who have children to feed, who cannot travel for their work, who lose the breadwinner in the family, who are sick in their minds, who are depressed because of the current situation.

I wish I could help, I really do. But how could I when I myself am sinking? The day goes by too slowly, but the weeks fly before my eyes. Before I knew it my kids have grown an inch taller, their limbs have reached higher, their minds have thought faster, and their paths have grown farther away from mine.

While I worry about those things beyond my control, they too grow without holding back. Don’t grow up too fast, Babies. Don’t outgrow me too soon, I would plea in my heart.

While I worry, I try not to worry. Let me just worry about, again, mundane things. The songs I and my two kids have to practice every week. The meal we’re going to have for breakfast, lunch, and dinner tomorrow and the days after. The empty fridge and how we should get our groceries (well, that’s another worry). The flat tire of my son’s bike. The bush in our neighbor’s yard which has started to invade our lush, green grass.

Let me worry about those small things, the silly things, the things I settle and then overlook in a second on a naturally normal day. Even if today is not as normal as I knew, even if everything keeps shifting and we are at our rope’s end trying to survive this pandemic, today too shall pass.

And I will worry about other things tomorrow. And so should you. And so should other people as well.

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