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. They say we should maintain a routine, the people whose job it is to keep us sane.

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. Like many people I don’t have much work at the moment. I find my mind wandering, I worry for all the sick people. Some days I feel powerless and I get nothing done. Other days I feel grateful that we are all well and I am excited by the prospect of 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 suns gentle rays lulling me into a stupor and my imagination taking 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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