Today I sat on the porch while it rained and I tried to focus on my work. Instead I was distracted and, my eyes weary from staring at the screen, I spent much of the day looking out over my neighbourhood cocooned in grey clouds. I listened to the drops hit the roof in an irregular rhythm and observed how vibrantly green the moss on the tree out front looked, in contrast to the gloomy sky. I watched the people go by. The two small children in classic yellow raincoats who passed around lunchtime, walking slowly as if their feet were heavy weights. The tinnier one spun in a half circle, bent over to examine some small treasure in the grass of my lawn, then stood up again to ask the wet and tired looking father how much farther to home. I watched pairs of friends marching two by two, separated too, by two meters…usually. Runners going full speed and runners clearly out of steam passed by, the sound of their feet catching my attention, pulling my eyes away from the report I was attempting to read. A cute boy with too-long hair hanging wet in his eyes, walked his dog by our house twice in the span of three hours. A friend stopped by to drop off a borrowed dish on the porch and called my name. The UPS man got confused about where to drop the (then damp) brown packages he carried and I watched him as he paced up and down the street until he sorted it out. The birds sang brightly all day, despite the constant drizzle. Around 3pm, the neighbour came out onto his porch for a while and we both waved, then sat in silence. All afternoon, I got up to make tea more than was necessary. I was restless; the weather and the street were too.
Today was Thursday, nearly the end of week 7 working from home during the COVID-19 lockdown. Week 7 of working from the worn-out yellow porch seat with a blanket over my legs and a cup of tea beside me, or from my bed with the covers pulled up, or from the floor in the corner of my bedroom, my legs crossed under me like a kindergartener. Week 7 of sitting on my couch with my laptop, trying not to be distracted by my roommates chattering over morning coffee, while I cross my fingers that the network connects easily and I can check my email without issue. Week 7 of daily Zoom calls, week 7 of missing chatting with colleagues in the bathroom and in the hallways. Week 7 of unsettledness, of an anxiety in my chest that comes and goes without warning. Week 7 of seeing the same walls and faces on an endless loop. Week 7 of dress shirts with pyjama bottoms, of sundresses while it snows, of lipstick as my only makeup, of not changing out of my yoga pants post morning flow, because I’m not going anywhere anyways. Week 7 of candles on my desk, sleeping until 8am, playing music and having a dance party at lunch time; it isn’t all bad. Week 7 of uncertainty about what comes next: where will I live, what will I do, how do I pray into this? Week 7 of working with choppy wifi and no printed documents for this paper and pen gal, week 7 of too much time staring at the light of my computer. Week 7 and I feel like I never know what day it is. Week 7…and I am tired.
So today I watched the rain come down and I drank my tea and I tried to work, bit by bit. I accepted that this was Thursday of week 7 and that it was raining and that my brain, like the world, was moving a little bit slower than normal. Today I tried to work but really I just watched and listened and remembered that the world, while slowed, is still moving. It is raining and the moss is growing and the children are learning and the people are talking and the runners are running and cute boys are dog-walking and the UPS man is delivering and the neighbour is waving from his porch. We are still living, still pressing forward albeit at a slower pace, day by day, in the sunshine and the in the rain. And we will be ok. It is week 7 and today I had to remind myself many times that we will be ok.