Day 3

We woke up to a redo of yesterday’s white morning.  It’s Groundhog Day!  That’s not funny…

M wanted his chai stronger. I poured without rationing.  What’s the point of living with weak chai?  That’s not living.

I spoke on the phone with my lover.  We have talked on the phone more in the past two weeks than in the past six years.  I don’t think that is an exaggeration.

We worked.  We ate meals.  Together. We moved in and out of rooms. There are three fish in the tank.  We remarked that there are three.  Just like us.  The fish are so happy since their world is brighter.  I am not sure they are happy.  Maybe it’s just that we can see them so clearly. If one dies now, I can’t replace it like I did with that hamster a few years back…when M knew anyway because the first one snuggled in her hands and the second one bit kids.  That was rough.  I came clean.

We went on another beautiful hike…friends far apart and close together. I roasted a chicken.  When I said that to M, he said, “What did you say to it?”

When I changed a roll of toilet paper, I had a feeling.

I spoke with my mom. I miss her.  We are very much together, despite.

Right now, both of my children are talking to their friends on various forms of headsets, air pods, virtual chatting, as they look at screens.  I am ok with it.  It’s Friday night. I texted for almost an hour with friends S & C in San Francisco & Oakland and my brother in Oregon.  I laughed so hard I cried.  Salve.

Today was a little more difficult, but i knew it would be like that. I know that the mood and everything goes up and down. We have good days and we have bad days. I did a lot of math work today and it was really hard because I just kept thinking of the weekend but now the weeknd feels different and less exciting. I went on a hike with Eleni and that was more fun than the last time because we actually talked like we used too. We weren’t talking about The virus or anything, we were talking about guys and food. I loved not thinking about it for that short amount of time. The only reason it was harder was because I couldn’t hug my best friend and I wanted to really bad. When I got home I started to paint everything I could possibly paint and I Facetimed my friends. For the rest of the day I’ve been calmly sitting in my room and watching American Horror story. I have a love hate relationship with this self isolation. I love that I have my time to myself and that I can sit quietly with my own mind. I hate that I can’t see my friends and the only form of communication is over the phone. I miss being able to cuddle up close with my friends and watch a movie. The only house I’m allowed to be in is my own and that’s so weird to me. My dad is stuck in Telluride by himself and that makes me feel sad. I wish I could give him company. I miss my dog and my family. I’m worried that my family might get sick, but worrying will not keep me happy. While writing this I’m sitting on the phone with my friends and we’re laughing. Hearing constant laughter makes me know for a fact that this will all be okay. 

Today we went on another hike after doing our homework and playing video games. I was playing games with my friend Noah. During the hike I got tired and laid down on a bench. Today we were also talking about getting tested for coronavirus but decided it was not going to happen right now. Things feel about as normal as they can feel. I feel adjusted to the precautions we are taking for the virus. The one thing I am mad about is that I can’t see my dad or hang out with my friends in Telluride because we can’t go up.


spring-fed and flower walls
of unlikely purple blooms
lead the eyes up
to an explosion
of sunflowers,
teetering arches over
the black pond
where bodies float
toward one another
or move apart
in all of their nakedness,
resting on stones
that echo the millennia
from when they rolled
off the high parts of the valley
to the low,
and the gravel bed
where toes grab
pebbles like a child,
steam rising
to meet the falling darkness
that covers each shadowed face
with welcome surrender
and also a longing –

so close together,
so far apart
under the very same


Tonight no glittering fountains
of blue and pink –
too many fires,

and the land is parched.
Perhaps independence
is something a bit

quieter, like watching
a full orange moon
rise over the jagged lines

of rocky cliffs,
or the soft realization
that you may

have missed
the moonrise altogether
as you knelt

on the floor in the closet,
boxing the clothes
of someone you loved.