Some nights, I lie tired but sleepless in my bed, listening to the racket the frogs are making in the nearby pond. Other nights, the frogs are quiet, but my longing speaks instead. It got stronger since there’s been talk of gradually re-opening our locked-down world. I’m longing to visit places. To see, touch, hug people. To try new stuff, have an adventure. Technology – life-saving as it has been in keeping us connected and productive – is a poor substitute for real human … Read-more
Updated on April 28th, 2020
Self-isolation has turned into lockdown, but my life has remained the same. After nearly a month of staying in, the power of new habits has softened my initial shock at what is happening in the world. Perhaps it’s easing my loss of freedom, too. I live simply, learning to savour a different, humbler kind of freedom. I’m filled with a gratitude I’ve rarely felt in my life. And, whilst I mostly stay indoors, the trees outside light up in opulent … Read-more
Updated on November 14th, 2024
I’m not often awake before dawn, lifelong night owl that I am. But today, I woke at four in the night and couldn’t go back to sleep. Two hours later, I get up, exasperated. I pull up the shutters of my bedroom window. In the east, behind the black hills, the sky is beginning to faintly glow. It’s like a promise. The orange radiance reflects on the ponds of the park that lies dark and silent, awaiting the new day. … Read-more
Updated on April 4th, 2020
On my short walks, I often pass the cemetery. My dad is buried here. I greet him as I walk past on the gravel path that runs alongside it, so straight it could have been drawn with a giant ruler. I step across a narrow patch of stubbly grass, duck under the low branches of a lime tree. On the cemetery car park, I look down onto the pavement. There’s a spot where it’s cracked into the shape of a … Read-more
Updated on April 2nd, 2020
I’ve walked these stairs up and down a few times each day now. Sixteen steps per floor; six floors. It feels better than taking the lift. The exercise burns my leg muscles; my heart is pounding in my chest. That’s good; I’m alive. I pass my neighbours’ doors, all painted in the same orangey-pink. One is adorned with a hopeful little wreath, another boasts a bold WELCOME! sign, defying the lockdown. Behind each door, lives are being lived, stories unfold… … Read-more
Updated on April 2nd, 2020
From my bedroom window I can see the sky. It looks pristine. Hard, too, like porcelain glazed in a rare turquoise colour. A hawk is drawing elegant circles up there, soaring effortlessly on the air, patiently waiting for some tiny prey to move in the grassy fields below. I wonder how she sees our world from up there. Does the lack of people make any difference to her? If anything, I’m guessing our withdrawal means she can expand… … Read-more
Updated on April 2nd, 2020
The world seems calm this mid-March evening, after a t-shirt-weather-day with temperatures we normally see in May. But the weather is changing, and the sky dulls down as the sun readies itself to set in pale orange and mauve tones behind a billowing cloud. On the school’s tartan track below, two lone joggers make their slow and steady rounds – two metres apart, for that’s the distance we keep these days. Inside, my mother is singing, her voice cracked, her … Read-more
