It’s still dark out and very cold when I start work in the morning. I usually snuggle up to a cat and blanket (my mom crocheted) with the light from my monitor streaming down over my hands and face. Somewhere between 6 and 8 the rest of the house wake up and then I take a short breakfast break.
It’s been a long time since the virus from China spread into the world and took our freedom away. For us it has been 78 days (on 1 June). Some days the walls feel too close, the kids too loud, the days too long and the future too uncertain. I’ve had writer’s block before, but this time it’s different, I just don’t have words.
The reality of the fallout to come is a bitter pill. On a daily basis there are retrenchments, businesses like mine close their doors, the infection numbers rise and the daily death toll consistently stays in the double digits. A move to level 3 may stop our economy from completely collapsing, but those daily numbers will snowball even more.
I’m a walking contradiction.Jason momoa
I don’t know if sending the kids back to school in June or July is the right thing. I know that having them at home and us not being able to have that separate life/work focus is not ideal. Having the nanny coming in fulltime isn’t a solution either as she probably has the same issues with the added concerns of public transport.
I didn’t paint my room and office as planned. I didn’t reorganize my cupboards either. I didn’t win any mom of home school during lockdown awards. I didn’t save anyone. I didn’t go on a diet and posted about it. I didn’t have my freedom. I existed these million days in captivity with my family, holding my breath, just waiting to exhale.