“Well,” I said to myself as I opened my living room window blinds this morning.
“We’ve made it to day ten.”
My coffee is steaming as its sat on its window sill, acting as a coaster. My pink Tinlid hat placed next to it for when my unwashed hair becomes too much for my head to bare.
My feet, sockless but covered in a throw-blanket.
Mac Demarco is playing softly over the morning calls of traffic and bird songs.
It’s gray outside.
I could hear the rain last night.
It’s the kind of day that, last spring, I’d have cherished the time to sit inside; a window slightly open, letting the morning dew smell wash over me.
I don’t forget that we’ll be able to have that feeling again.
The thought of “oh, thank god, I don’t have to go out and see anyone today.”
It won’t be any time soon. We’re all craving that connection now.
And once we’re free to feel it again, we won’t be so quick to give it up, I’m sure.