I’m Not Sure I’m Ready To Stop Quarantining
Life at home turned out to be far better than I ever thought.
(***I do not, obviously, wish for COVID to linger around. By quarantine, I am referring solely to the altered state of life that the pandemic has brought about for me, not the illness itself.)
I’m out for a walk with my husband and daughter. They race down a grassy hill. I balance on a thin strip of concrete. As I steady myself, the ground below emerges into slow focus. I see crushed beer cans, cigarette stubs, a bright pink baby sock… urban detritus, yet each a silent accomplice to a real, lived moment. I contemplate their fate; a pivotal role for some breaths and then… permanent obscurity. I hear my name being called and I momentarily lose my footing. Looking back up is dizzying… a too-sudden transition from within to beyond.
This is what life feels like now that the worst of the pandemic seems to be receding here in America. An abrupt reunion with screaming sunshine after befriending the somnolent dark. A sudden acquaintance with a translucent outside world, the blurry shapes vaguely familiar yet difficult to envision clearly.
I wonder if the sun always shone so bright. Bright enough to hurt the eyes.
