This isn’t the first time I’ve had to shelter in place.
The world seems off-balance this year, but the deep part of me has found the old tracks through the forest, hidden due to years of absence, but still there.
During the work week I can muffle the echoes of the past, stay busy in my virtual office, stay connected with the present.
But on my days off, I’m reliving something I haven’t experienced in the seven years since I left my life as a stay-at-home daughter. . . .
Read MoreThe 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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