4.21

4.21

quarantine daze

Are we there yet? This couch ride is long. The cat sits on my feet like a mama bird on top of her eggs. I’m afraid of what will become of my toes.

Do you smell that? There’s something baking in the oven, but I’ve forgotten what it is.

Am I awake? Is this real? We’re all in masks, and now I fear numbers, and my heart aches every time I see another life lost.

We are on a strange ride with questionable ends, but my family is home. My family is safe-at-home, and I feel so full I’m guilty.

Are we there yet? No, no, that question doesn’t taste right. What…what will come from this? What is cooking in the kitchen? And when will the timer ding?

I sit on the couch and wonder.

 

4.17

4.17

comfort

It was bath time.

I wrote while the babe played…

 

Today was a gray day, a chilly day,

so I filled my bowl with chili.

I wanted to be full of comfort,

clothed in fuzzy socks and a chunky sweater.

We took a walk outside for more

snail watching and neighbors talking.

Back inside to a hot cup of tea and a movie.

Mark stepped out for a meeting.

I saw him through the window

sitting in a ray of sunshine.

Mia baked us a special treat,

and we finished a beautiful film.

 

Back to bath time,

Alana played the ukulele.

She was learning a new song.

I put down my journal to wash Abe and listen.

He asked me to pour water around him

like some kind of spell or cleansing ritual.

He was safely inside his circle.

And we are safely inside ours.