The rain and the waiting and the forgetting of days—all this that we are dealing with together from our separate homes—remind me of a time years ago, a time of habitual rain and endless waiting and how it didn’t really matter whether you called today Tuesday or Wednesday. A time when I lived on Kaua`i as a stay-at-home daughter, an available bride with no groom in sight.

Under the stay-at-home order, I am returning to the long stretches of afternoon stillness, quiet moments that turn to hours, a deeper familiarity with my walls and windows, time to read books without the focus to read them. Pen in hand, nothing to say. Aimless walking in neighborhoods that seem to have no neighbors. . . .

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