An Ideal Post-Quarantine Day

I've been thinking about reality, and its significance. Naturally, it's an important part of our lives - it's the context within which we function, thrive, and hurt. But I was thinking more so about how it impacts us, mentally. The current state of the world is something I don't need to go into with you. I'm sure you're all very much aware of what's happening, very much stressed, and very much in need of some not-so-downcast stories. That's why I've been loving John Krasinski's YouTube channel, SNL (Some Good News); all of the people behind the channel are making a real effort to highlight as many joys as possible, worldwide. That's why I so enjoyed the One World Together At Home concert. Nothing like some good old Elton John and three super-imposed Keith Urbans to make you smile. That's why I'm avidly trying not to dwell too much on the present, and instead hope for what is to come.

Today, I thought I'd throw a light sort of post into the vast expanse of the Internet, detailing what my ideal post-quarantine life will look like. As someone who struggles with mental illness, being at home has brought its fair share of challenges, though I'm holding up better than I could've hoped. What tides me through is gratitude for the people around me, who are working so hard to help others. I am inspired by all those reacting to the situation with nothing but the best of humanity. I am in love with my friends, and my family, and the peculiar air that comes with spring.

During lunch, I read the new edition of TIME. During my English Macbeth test, I listened to The Daily's interview detailing "The Next Year (or Two) of the Pandemic." And it was depressing. I have no doubt that our world and our lives will look drastically different than they did a year ago. I wonder whether or not I've had my last hand shake. If online school has to continue, I'm curious how its integrity will be maintained. There are a lot of ifs and whens and buts, and it is scary, but it's also hopeful.

Very few things in this universe are infinite. Civilizations and species rise and fall, pandemics wreak disaster and then become key terms in history books, security and insecurity both come in waves. One thing I fervently believe to be infinite is humanity. I hope we emerge from this kinder and better and more considerate. I hope we take life into perspective and work for causes bigger than ourselves. I'm no seer, but I have cheery hopes for the future. Here's a make-believe dream day I'd love to live, post-quarantine.

7:00 A.M: I will wake up at about this time. My neighbors have this massive dog called Moose, and Moose has these massive barks that he likes to bark when the clock strikes seven. Annoying, sure, but better than an alarm clock. And I'm so grateful to be able to wake up and experience life that it doesn't matter, anyway. I will not check my phone at all today. I will open the windows and kiss my family and flip chocolate banana pancakes for my sister. My breakfast'll probably consist of gluten-free toast, perhaps topped with peanut butter, chia seeds, and a banana. And tea. Lots of tea. I'll do sun salutations and take a too-long, too-hot shower, and my hair will be frizzy.

8:20 A.M: I will go to school. I will see my friends and the people I didn't like too much before, and I will challenge that not-liking. I will smile at everyone and stop to help that one freshman pick up his dropped Pokemon cards, even though that means I'll probably be late to chemistry. I will tell people what they are to me, and how sunshine-y they make my life. And I will sing in choir and fake cry in theatre and soak up all of it.

3:30 P.M: School is over, and I walk to the meeting spot with my sister. The sidewalk is dusty, and we stop to pull plastic bags out of spindly branches. My dad drives us, and drops me off at the library. I'll return the (sanitized) books I've had in my possession for the last six or so months. Maybe I'll order a latte, sixteen ounces, and when the computer asks if I'd like to include a tip, I will. I will sign up to read to kids for Saturday Story-Time, and I will help people out and I will be kind.

6:00 P.M: Now, the sun is setting, and it is time for me to head home. I'll embark on the forty-five minute walk, and take out my pony-tail so the wind can do with my hair what it will. The air will smell of all things fresh and exhaust and there will be ant hills dotting the path. I'll pass four churches on my way home - Methodist, Catholic, Protestant, Evangelical. I will play an audio book without head phones, because no one is listening, and I am here.

6:45 P.M: I'm home, and it's dinner with my family. We'll have something simple and happy, and the conversation will be more satiating than the food. There'll probably be asparagus. I'll spend the rest of the evening reading with them, watching movies, singing, dancing to the Pointer Sisters, laughing. I'll chap my hands with soap-suds. We'll watch the squirrels. All things average and extraordinarily ordinary.

Because this is what my ideal post-quarantine day will look like. It will be normal. It will encompass everything and everyone I've ever taken for granted, and it will give me space to be grateful. I promise to fill that space.

What do you want to do in the aftermath? More importantly, what will you do to make the world a little better in the now?

Love,
Maya

Photo by Gian Cescon on Unsplash, Photo by Kruse Collins on Unsplash,
Photo by Estée Janssens on Unsplash, Photo by Ivo Konings on Unsplash