When you’re in solitude,
in a single space,
for any number of days or weeks, slowly,
perceptions about that space
begin to shift.

I have heard many people compare being stuck in their homes
during the Covid-19 Pandemic,
to being imprisoned.

Consider that for a moment.

A 12x6 space,
if you’re lucky,
with a window,
if you’re extra lucky.
Your narrow bed,
a cold metal toilet,
a tiny sink;
those are your precious decor.
That window becomes your passage
to the world,
to the magical light of day.
You peer out that window
with awe, with longing,
with hope of feeling
the warmth of the sun
on your body again.
That sensation,
that experience,
is irreplaceable.

I disagree profoundly with the previous assertion.
I cancelled trips to visit family and
friends, like many others were forced to do as well.
I kept my friend circle very tight,
with no room for growth.
I stayed in my home.
I practiced quietude,
solitude with my thoughts.

I observed the morning light
shining through the closed blinds
in my bedroom every day,
letting me know
it was time to get moving.
I’d open them up as soon as I lifted myself from bed.

“There you are my plant babies,
grow, grow, grow!”
I would say to all my plants sitting by the window.
I would then open the back door for my dog
and step outside with him to feel the warm air,
hear the chirping birds in the tree above,
and admire how the sun illuminated our lively garden.

After weeks of this,
I found that it is entirely possible
to be isolated in your home space
for days on end
and still find something new
to look at, to appreciate.
I found myself looking forward
to the afternoon light
because of the way it illuminates the back of the house
where the shared living spaces are located.
As if the sun was saying,
“Hey, enjoy each other’s company here,
in this mystically lit sanctuary.
Care for your plants,
for each other,
for yourselves.
Foster abundance and growth.
Appreciate what is present;
do not dwell on what is not.”