Everything is the same but different…

Love and Sacrifice in the times of Covid-19

Normally I rise at six forty-five in the morning. I have done this for years; I like the mornings, the silence of everyone sleeping. It took weeks for this to change. First, it was seven and then seven fifteen and this morning eight-fifteen. The experts say we should maintain a routine.

I have a new routine, I didn’t plan for it, it just evolved. I get up and make tea and toast. Then I return to bed and gaze out the window. I look upon the most magnificent jacaranda and I daydream; this is an activity usually reserved for Sunday mornings but now I get to do it every day. And then I wait to hear my son’s voice, do I want coffee? Yes. I have my coffee in bed, and then I dress for my day.

For some, this means donning a tracksuit or staying in pyjamas, which is fine. We should each do what brings us a sense of satisfaction. They say we should control the things we can control. I like to wear skirts and dresses; it has always been this way. I like my undergarments to match, and I love the feeling of running my hand over a leg that is in pantyhose. And so, I continue with this routine as a way to maintain order.

And then I set about conducting the activities of a usual day. But everything is slower like time has been stretched. When I am hanging the washing on the line, I stop and hold the sheets up to my cheeks. They smell fresh, and the coolness of the fabric provides relief in the warm autumn sun. I hear the birds. I see the sky, and I feel a gentle breeze lift the edge of my skirt. Things I mightn’t have noticed before.

I eat my lunch and go for a walk. I do this because that’s what they say to do. Then I work at my desk in the afternoons. I find my mind wandering; I worry for all the sick people. Some days I feel powerless, and I get nothing done. On other days I feel grateful that we are all well and I am excited about having this free time.

Those are the good days. The days when I take a long lunch on the lawn in my garden. Afterwards, I lie on the grass staring at the sky. The sun’s gentle rays lull me into a stupor, and my imagination takes me on a journey. And one day blends into the next, and time becomes ambient. Measured by the sameness of our usual lives but different.

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