#LockdownDiary – One of many – Day 60
The idea of a collection of daily words describing how you felt for 30 days of social distancing and isolation feels really meaningful to me and something that I think I’d really appreciate having in 10 years. Think outside the box of what you might typically write!— NaNoWriMo (@NaNoWriMo) March 31, 2020
‘Do you want to play Scrabble outside?’
My partner looks at the breeze shuffling the tree leaves. ‘It really isn’t bad,’ I comment.
She returns to the living room to fetch the scrabble board while I disappear into the kitchen. I prepare a mocktail for me with some mint, lime, and ginger, topped with water and ice, and pour a glass of white wine for my partner.
‘Olives,’ she asks. I nod and return to the fridge.
The board ready, we begin to play. I watch pigeons kiss on a rooftop not far from ours as my partner moves her tiles about in search of a word.
My turn comes. I have too many vowels and struggle to place a word on the board. By the time I raise my head from the table, the pigeons are gone. Three magpies stand where the pigeons were only a couple of minutes earlier.
‘Hello magpies,’ I say. They ignore me.
We play on. A couple or blackbirds perched on our fence scream at us. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘The tent will go soon. I promise.’ They beat their wings angrily and fly away. I check my phone. It is nearly 8 o’clock, right on time for the blackbirds usual dinner time in our garden. I had not thought of them when I had erected my tent a couple of hours earlier in the middle of their feeding ground. I had only thought of me, restless and caged, beautiful days passing me by after a long winter waiting for those exact days.
We put on a jumper and eat dinner outside, finishing with a plum tart glazed with apricot jam. We eat more than we intend.
The sky darkening, we retreat inside. We wash the dishes and clean the kitchen before settling into the living room. My partner reads while I colour a flower in one of my colouring book, my mind prohibited from thinking.
Eventually, in the quiet of the house, we make our way upstairs. We brush our teeth and part ways. My partner goes to our bed and I find shelter in my tent. I leave the outer zip open. The neighbours light is still on. I watch the orange glow seeping through their window and listen to cars passing by. If I pretend hard enough, I can almost convince myself they are waves dancing on the beach and not motors releasing toxic gas less than half a mile from me.