What I will remember most about quarantine

A taste for sugar at the end of every day, wanting to feel the sweet kick of it. Surviving with some sweetness.

Walking as a way to wear out the body, remind it that it used to go somewhere. It can now go somewhere wandering the neighborhood or home. Circling and counting. Steps leading back to here.

Forgetting to clean and letting things pile in new ways, dust and dirt signaling that we are here but not here, busy somewhere in our home office upstairs.

The dogs in our beds. The dogs in the nook of a room. The dogs outside. The dogs with us everywhere, waiting and listening.

Being aware of every interaction: a message, a call, a written how are you? Feeling each one as a moment, as if it were a hand held, a hand shook, a new touch of connection.

The joy of cooking simmering away, because we are cooking so much every day. Also, that I didn’t bake bread. I barely baked anything.

The haze of the summer peeling back to a blue sky. The hearsay that this is bluer than ever before, during the middle of an invisible storm. Some see clearer.

A humid and hot Memorial Day, hanging in the air.