Things have not been easy for me the last few months, so I won’t pretend they have been. It has been two months of grieving. The loss of a job, of my grandpa, of my originally planned wedding day and all the little things that go with that. Grieving my friends, my fiance, and my normal freedoms.
I have felt like a zombie, going from one day to the next, not motivated much. I have not been “productive” by my normal standards. The one saving grace I have had is reading. Anyone who knows me knows I love words and books and am a voracious reader. In the pages of recent books, I have found a thread, a strand running through all the words of stories, Instagram posts, scripture, and songs. This consistent theme of people bringing magic to the dark places, of making a home and blooming right where they are.
I read about this mom and her little girl doing online classes. She has her own little “office” set up: stuffed animals, favorite pictures, juice box, pink stapler, etc. She doesn’t just sit down to do her classes and homework she does so with style, fun and pizazz. I am reading “The Hiding Place” and Corrie talks about all the little things she is thankful for in prison. She is so thankful to be able to see the sky, for the ant in her cell who keeps her company, and the way her sister can make a jail cell feel like a home by having the other women hang their coats up and by hanging red tissue paper over the light bulb to make the room feel cozy.
I realize I have been grieving, yes, and that that is okay. But in reading all these stories and books I am also beginning to see that gratitude is a posture and has nothing to do with circumstances. That being happy is more about what you choose to do than about what you’re given. Maybe even more then that, I am inspired at seeing a little girl and a grown woman make a home and create magic in the midst of loss and disappointment. I am not sure how to do it, unsure of exactly what it means, but it’s given me a spark. We can either sit and feel sorry for ourselves or we can create something beautiful, right here.
The hard part is, I wish it wasn’t so hard. I want to be the woman who is positive and who makes the best of everything and who knows how to make a prison feel like home. I don’t want to be the woman who is sad all the time, who struggles to just get up and eat something. I wish it all didn’t feel so heavy.
I sit here staring at this little coffee cup. The to-go one that I can’t seem to throw away. Just a paper cup with “Tequila Sun” scrawled out on it. It’s from the night a few weeks ago when my sister and I set out, sick of being trapped inside and we walked the few blocks to one of her favorite bars where they were selling “Cocktails to-go”. We waited in line while four people with a dog did shots then took a selfie. The mom in front of us had her little boy with her and he was dressed like a wizard, cloak, and all. My sister and I stepped up and ordered our drinks, I ordered a Tequila Sunrise. The bars are still closed, we couldn’t go out like usual. So we grabbed our to-go cocktails and got spicy hot tacos from Taco Bell and headed home for a night in.
I think maybe even Corrie’s sister and the little girl don’t always have good days and maybe this is it. Maybe I am doing it too. Maybe this is what making a home in the middle of chaos looks like, maybe this is the magic in the middle of the mess. I don’t know. I don’t know if there is a “right way” to do quarantine but maybe it starts by embracing that today is enough and the energy you have is enough and all we can really do is practice saying “thank you” for all the little things.
I took so many basic things for granted before this quarantine. After reading about life in a concentration camp I am reminded of how much I am STILL taking things for granted. Things feel hard but I am also reminded that I am so rich and there is so much to give thanks for right here.
So here are all the little gifts and pennies of magic I have from these last two months of quarantine:
empty weekends, sleeping in, runs outside with my brother, animal crossing, early morning smoothies, video chats with friends, evil apples, dinner at the table with family, playing Half Life lan games with my siblings (which we hadn’t done all together since highschool), trying new recipes, to-go cocktail runs, watching Love is Blind and wine nights with my sister, all the glorious books I have been able to read, watching trees waking up, seeing flowers bloom, rainstorms, online church, howling at night with my mom and sister, my cozy bed and twinkle lights, sitting around the fire with my family, listening to the neighbor kids fighting next door over a soccer ball, Tiger King memes, the memes coming out of quarantine in general, curbside pickup, more time for writing, saving money, and all of this has been white space for my soul.
It is okay to grieve, and it’s important to name what we are all feeling. Sometimes though, I have a tendency to wallow and that is not what I am going to do. Just like the flowers who bloom in sidewalk cracks and cityscapes, I am not going to wait for the perfect external setting to grow. I am simply going to do all I can, which is to soak in the rain that is freely giving, and turn and stretch towards the sun.
Hang in there lovelies this won’t last forever. Peace and grace for you this weekend.
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