My solo quarantine began March 6th, when I stepped into the ER struggling to breathe…
I likely had the COVID-19
I live alone in my Brooklyn loft and often consider myself lucky to have solo space in a place where multitudes of roommates are commonplace. It’s the first time in my life I’ve lived alone which happened by accident, or more-so by a series of unfortunate events. Most days the New York City hustle makes it easy to forget the aloneness.
The only unavoidable indicator of my solo existence is the vacant rooms that hold empty beds where my children are supposed to sleep. Sometimes I catch myself making the beds over and over again, in some subconscious effort as if the beds were made just right they might soon hold those meant to occupy them. Their absence was supposed to be held only temporarily due to a ruling the court made when I moved from CT to Brooklyn. Regardless of the why and how I found myself here, it was the first time in my life I anxiously awaited the next court date, that is until…
COVID-19 changed life as we knew it.
What kind of cruel trick to hit the giant pause button and we were all left staring at clocks that no longer tic-tok, replacing time with absurd dances. The days start to blur together, defined only by the waking and sleeping.
