Today I'm going to talk more about the highs and lows I find myself swinging through on a daily (if not hourly basis). I found this post on instagram by now.or.noodles that captured it so accurately...
My food habits have intensified and varied during quarantine. While I try to stick to meal plan ideas to keep some semblance of structure, I think of food way more often and how and what I eat tends to be more sporadic. Some days more, some days less.
Grocery shopping was something I largely enjoyed and took for granted. Popping into stores 1-2 times a week, maybe a third time at the bodega for a late night Tate's cookies craving, was a routine
I walked aimlessly through narrowed paths and sought the beauty of blooming trees amongst the fallen. I meditated on what it means to let go, to lose.
When the sky darkens, the Calathea goes inward. Its leaves stiffen and slowly curl at the edges, eventually pulling close enough to the center until they are in a huddle and all you can see is a purple "shell".
Today my goal was to take it easy and to tackle making homemade fabric masks, rather than sit and worry about not having them (which, if you are--- totally normal). I personally find that being weighed down by this collective trauma (or any previous anxiety and depression) means that something that normally "seems small" can be much much harder to do.
As much as I want to see the cherry blossoms in full bloom and up close, I freeze up when I think about running into people. Now that they finally recommend face masks (fabric ones), it adds another pause (until I DIY some masks!). Until then, I'm taking night walks or "NWs" as A calls … Continue reading Day 23 – Fire Escape
It's Friday and the end of week three of self-quarantine. I'm at home in my bedroom and it occurred to me that I want to be able to look back and remember parts of this chapter in detail (or snapshots)
I was snuggled in my favorite corner seat on the B train, enjoying a quiet night on my way home. My stop coming up ahead, I reached for my trusty little purse and rooted for my keys, fruitlessly. A little more frantically, I reached into my jacket pockets, pants, and turned my purse upside down for a thorough check. Still, nothing.
Speak Arabic, they cajoled. Speak your mother tongue: Once it flows, it will flow like the sweetest honey.