Hello Darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
When I said I thought I had the flu, I was being optimistic. I have a pretty solid case of Covid 19. My health doesn't seem to be in any danger, but my comfort is now a secondary concern, and my schedule is shot. I'm in isolation for five days without ballgames, visitors, or coffee with friends. It's pretty intense isolation too. I won't see a human face without a mask until at least Tuesday.
I'm no stranger to isolation or seclusion. It was my chosen way of life for almost twenty years. This is different, though. It's prescribed rather than a retreat, and its purpose is to protect those around me, not allow me a place to bleed my wounds out in privacy. Darkness may not be my friend, but he's not my jailer, either. We have: an understanding.
There's power and security in solitude. You control everything you see. Any enemy entering your realm is immediately detectable. If your kingdom isn't all that presentable, who cares? You're the only one that sees it. What I'm experiencing now isn't that kind of solitude, though. I know it ends Tuesday at six P.M., and that gives my old companion no sway over me. He seems to be begrudgingly accepting his new role.
My new companion checks on me when she's in-between mommy duty. She makes sure I'm not lonely, which is important, and do as I'm told, which is more important, and something of a challenge. I say that as I stare at my lonely exercise diary, wondering how much I can get away to make sure I don't lose any progress in my workouts without risking my recovery from Covid.
I was hoping I had the flu rather than Covid because I was nervous about facing the abject isolation that comes with Covid, but sitting in the belly of the beast, I am not afraid. We know each other.
