June 17th, 2020
Written on the patio, coffee in hand, a bee buzzing at the flowers, a dog barking next door.
The world is in crisis and my heart has felt so bruised from it all: racial injustices and police brutality, a pandemic keeping us away from each other, a faulty medical system and horrific class differences in our homeland.
This stay was purposeful for me— I wanted to have a room to myself, to reflect, to lose sight of the world, to take a moment to hear my own heart beat again.
It was a rest well-needed in my grieving. I took myself out to the waterfront and dined at LoLo’s, reveling in the tastiness of the duck tacos. I walked along the water, feeling the wind against my hot summer skin and watched a couple splash each other with their jet skis. I dipped into the boutiques and the antique mall, my eyes delighted at the treasures and colors stacked onto shelves.
Walking back, I realized I hadn’t interacted with a single non-white person: Stillwater reminded me of the bubbles we have and how easy it can be to ignore life’s suffering. This saddened me, too.
Later in the evening, I sat in the large, beautiful tub and sank my shoulders beneath the surface, cleansing my body, my heart, supporting my sorrow.
The fireplace crackled — I couldn’t help myself! — and I dried naked in front of it (a delivered pizza in hand, no less, from Roma.)
I forgave myself for turning off the world and tending to my body, heart, mind.
Admittedly, I ate a cannoli in bed and sipped the complimentary wine with a satisfaction I once knew, well before COVID and the quarantine.
Thank you for the beauty, the cleansing, and the stillness of your home.