My 462 square feet is my sanctuary. A perfect rectangle, she is orderly yet messy, both idealistic and practical.
She tucks me softly into bed at night, knit socks warming my feet, linen sheets gripped to my cheeks, before I fall softly and quickly to sleep.
She reminds me I am not alone when I hear the soft shuffling of my neighbor’s feet above my head, or the quick pitter patter of a baby running wildly across the deck outside my window.
She keeps my company with my sister’s laugh, blaring over my speakerphones, as I wait for my soup to simmer, zesting oranges, peeling potatoes, and grating garlic.
She strengthens me as I hurl soup cans in the air, softens me as I pose in the mirror, delights me as I sing.
She is my Saturday afternoon, the wet smell of spring rain wafting in through the window, cupping steaming, milky chai.
She’s my end of a long day, bowl of ice cream on the couch, waiting patiently for the edges to melt. If I eat it too soon, I miss the soft, cold, rich, custard.
She’s my used bookshop, where I can open the pages and be flooded with smells, memories, old receipts tucked haphazardly into the creases of the pages, notes from favorite recipes, hopes and dreams and sorrows.
She’s my romantic comedy, my stomach filled with butterflies, feeling the weighty pull of connection and touch and intimacy that is no longer there.
She’s the scent of pine, candles lit, windows open. My moon salutation, my goddess pose, my inhale, my exhale. She is the single salty tear that escapes from the very corner of my eye, slowly rolling down my cheek, as I hold myself, and let myself be.
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MORE MEDIA
I decided we don’t need any more media this week. We’ve had about enough. But I did want to share a quick quote from Glennon Doyle, who reminded me that we’re in a period of grief right now (ugh I know more grief!?) We’re grieving our lives before the virus. In her insta story, she says, “Do not feel pressure for self-improvement. Don’t buy into the message that this is the time to improve yourself. Grief is a cocoon. It’s exhausting and painful. Return to yourself. Do the inner self work. Don’t add shoulds or shame on top of grief”.