6,205 days I have spent with you. 1,095 days in quarantine, or what’s left of it.
I peered outside the door today to see if anything had changed. Realizing its mostly in my mind, I closed the door and returned to my chair.
With still no desire to put on anything other than elastic-waisted pants, I gave in to the day.
Solitude has turned to isolation
Quiet time has turned to loneliness
Motivation to despair
Masks are optional, they say, but I am afraid
My body has betrayed my expectations enough already
I am learning to adjust.
Life “out there” is optional. The longer I wait, the harder it gets.
6,205 days with you. In 365 more, your time as a child will be complete.
Can I sit and enjoy the gift of you for a while longer?
I’ll hold on to the days.