Finding an upside to isolation: the gift of time
today at 11:32 am
For the first time in almost a year, I’ve been allowing myself the luxury of daydreaming about what life (hopefully) will be like without Covid 19.
True, going back to yesteryear, when donning a mask wouldn’t even cross my mind, is still unthinkable. I imagine, I’ll be wearing a mask or two or three far into the future.
But with the vaccine becoming more available, I find myself musing about what I’d like to do if I have a chance to get the two required vaccines.
Other than being able to hug loved ones, I discovered my desires are quite pedestrian. I’d really just like to go to a coffee shop, sit across from a friend and order a club sandwich and not fret if that activity might be a death sentence.
Why a club sandwich? Because I love them–on whole wheat toast, with gobs of mayo and the bacon crisp, thank you very much. And because a club sandwich is something I’d never make for myself.
I also pondered another question: is there anything I’d miss about not being in isolation? My answer surprised even me.
Don’t get me wrong. Of course, I want, hope, pray things get back to some kind of normalcy soon, not only for myself, but for the world. I don’t want to learn about more people getting sick or dying or losing jobs or going hungry.
Still, there are some things I’ll miss about staying home. I’ll miss having an automatic guilt-free card: to not get dressed for the entire day. To have sweats be my go-to outfit with no thought about what to wear.
To not put on eye shadow, mascara, blush or lipstick. To not dye my hair. Or style it. And, I admit, to shower only if the mood strikes.
To have time. Plenty of it. Time, that most elusive of things. To feel that life is one continual, loooong weekend.
To have time to gab–not text–on the phone with friends and relatives, knowing that those friends and relatives will, most likely, be home to answer it.
To have time to write letters and thank you notes. To feel the joy of rediscovering the joy of cooking and baking and yes, eating. To darn socks.
To do yoga. And crossword and jigsaw puzzles. To linger over another cup or two of coffee in the morning. To write a blog post.
To catch all the excellent TV series I’d been meaning to watch– “Ozark,” “Broadchurch, “The Queen’s Gambit,” among them. To read a book in the middle of the afternoon. To stare out the window and trace the fall of a single a snowflake as it gently tumbles to the ground.
To not feel the burn in your throat and nose and eyes and ears on a bitterly cold, windy, raw winter day, knowing you have nowhere to be, nowhere to go.
Yes, the daily grind came to a sudden, screeching halt. But, unlike many others, right now, I’m fortunate enough to have food on the table and a warm home.
If and when things begin to hum along like they used to, I’ll be doing a happy dance, as thrilled as a polar bear in snow. But until then, I found an my upside to isolation: time. And to accept and even appreciate things as they are, not how I wish them to be.
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