• Ellen O'Rourke

Isolation Lessons: 2

Lesson Two

It's the little things.

On day three of isolation, I felt low. Sitting inside all day doesn’t come naturally to me; I’m a hiking, horse-riding, cycling, dog-walking, outdoorsy person. I can’t sit still. Sitting still equates to stagnancy, flatlining, stopping. On day three, it was announced that we were permitted to go on one walk per day, and to keep it short and sweet. Fuck. This made me grumpy. I can’t ride? I can’t do the one thing that’s acted as a coping mechanism? Fuckity-fuck.

I sat down in a huff at the kitchen table, put my head in my hands, and sniffled to myself. A gentle knock on the kitchen table brought me back to the present; a latte with a heart made out of cinnamon was smiling back at me. I glanced up to see my flatmate, peering over me, proud of her creation.

“This is for you,” she said. “Smile.”

In a time where there’s no promise of a future, it’s impossible to plan, and each day seems to fold into the next, take the time to jot down one little thing, each day, that made you grin. Even if it was one of those smiles where only the corner of your mouth twitches. Especially, if it’s one of those smiles where you can feel it, cheek to cheek. Definitely, if something made you cackle with laughter. I don’t care what it is; dog meme, a funny show on telly, or a cinnamon heart in your coffee. In this new era, it’s all about the little things.

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