I have been in the house with my kids and husband for about 13 days. In the almost two weeks that we have been in self-quarantine, I have had nothing but time to think. And write. And be a mom. And a wife. And cook. And write. And pray.
I have pulled from Facebook for a time, because it was time. Social distancing from social media is a must for me–and it seems to happen around this time of year. But this year, when COVID-19 hit? It seems all the more needed and necessary. I have had time to reflect and to think and to process just how effing crazy life could become! And has become!
I have nothing but time now.
I have read, re-read and refuse to start worrying. I have written like Alexander Hamiliton (think ‘NonStop’ from the Hamiliton soundtrack). I have limited my time listen to the news, and decided to only watch the news for like 1-2 hours at time and that’s it. I do that because I cannot handle being inundated with panic. I can’t. I won’t.
There is nothing but time now.
Time to think. Time to plan. Time to see the world as beautiful and dirty as it is. I have had time to realize just how good I am at these words, and how needed those words are, and realizing just how much harder life just got.
I am at a peace. That peace is not dependent on Fox News. Why? My source is not the news. Let me help you right quick.
Charles Blow said on Twitter that he can do this quarantine–his ancestors (read: our ancestors) traveled to this country kidnapped, not speaking the language, surrounded by the sick, dead and dying for months. Months! I can do self-quarantine. I can do being alone with my thoughts and getting to know my children. I can handle cleaning off my professional desktop and building that which I know I can do–what I was meant to do. This is nothing.
Survival is what Black women do. And we do it at all cost.