Inhabiting a Small World

Nine weeks into the pandemic lockdown, I start to settle down and find some contentment in the small world I now inhabit. To stay as active as possible, I take walks in the sprawling fields outside my neighborhood. Few others venture out this far, so the gravel paths and wide-open views of the Front Range become a wonderful refuge.

Gradually, a long-forgotten calm eases back into my days. My disposition shifts and I feel less worried, less agitated, almost hopeful. I begin to notice subtle things, like the way the sun filters in through the bedroom window in the early morning and casts a golden glow across the carpet. I notice too that the early morning hours are delightfully calm, free of the normal growl of commuter traffic. It is this time of day that becomes my favorite for walking.

Today after my walk, I busy myself with routine tasks. I clean the percolator and make a sizable pot of Kauai Koloa Estate Coffee. Pleased with the result I drink two small cups of the brew, each topped with a generous glug of half and half. I then spend several hours doing chores — cleaning the kitchen, vacuuming, steaming floors, sorting files on my computer, organizing boxes in the garage, folding laundry. I perform these and various other duties methodically. Tidying the house can be for me soothing and grounding.

For a moment, my mind shifts to worry — what if I were to lose my job? But I remind myself that despite the difficulties unemployment would surely bring, there would also be things to gain. And so for now, I try to take comfort in the inevitability of change and the renewal that is bound to follow.

Later on, I’m back to doing chores. Now bookkeeping — I discover I have some refund cash lingering in my Amazon account. I put some of it towards a pair of tethered lens caps. I put the remainder towards a book: Writing & Selling Short Stories & Personal Essays by Windy Lynn Harris. Wouldn’t it be nice to have the time to write! In the late afternoon, I put on a yoga DVD. My body is stiff, my hamstrings are as tight as banjo strings. I try to tease out the kinks and grind the grit from my joints. When done, I melt into the couch and watch an episode of The Jewel in the Crown.

Reading

Writing & Selling Short Stories & Personal Essays by Windy Lynn Harris