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.