I went for a walk yesterday, knowing a period of rain was forecast to begin that afternoon. I wanted to enjoy the weather before it became another reason to shelter in place. The air was warm and the sun peeked in and out from behind the gathering clouds. After putting up with months of winter, these are the types of days Chicagoans are well-versed in taking advantage of, especially when they make a more rare appearance in early spring. On a trafficless stretch of road, a man guided a girl teetering on a training wheels-free bike. A person sat in a camping chair beside a patch of tulips of brilliant pinks, reds, and yellows. Further down on the same grassy median of the boulevard, a couple people tied a slack line between two trees.
People walking, running, out with dogs and strollers, skateboarding, cycling, resting in the grass- a normal spring day, with the new normal addition of masks. A few of us pedestrians ended up at a crosswalk and, without speaking, lined up with space between us, waiting for the light to change. Our adaptability is quite incredible, how we can wordlessly engage with new patterns and practices as well as with each other.
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The rain began late yesterday afternoon. I’m of two minds- I miss the sunshine that motivates me to stretch my legs and get out into the world, but the rain has its own comforts. The sound of rain reminds me of camp, where drops on tents or cabin roofs are particularly audible. At camp, when the rain came, we’d often curl up in our bunks- reading or writing letters- or gather in the mess hall and sing songs. Normal activities were put on hold as we took the time to keep ourselves warm and dry.
I used to love going to school on rainy days because it meant the day wasn’t wasted by being stuck inside. This sentiment feels relatable now, when being inside is encouraged and less fraught. It's easier to stay indoors because of rain, instead of the virus, which often feels intangible. Rain also feels like an excuse to suspend the grind of motivation, to pause and find coziness, whether watching a movie or reading a book. With the rain, I can rest and relax for a moment, free from beating myself up about not being productive enough. Physically, like at camp, I am keeping myself warm and dry, but I am also giving myself a chance to breathe mentally.
I wrote previously about not feeling bored in confinement, but discontent that I hadn’t been able to check more off my projects list. Now that six weeks have passed, I feel like I’ve settled into a routine that acknowledges the fluctuations in energy and anxiety that comes with this time. I’m trying to tap into more things that will keep me busy and engaged- union meetings, a weekly French class- but also allowing myself the space (with or without the rain) to rest and take a break from a pursuit of productivity that is so often demanded and idealized both on a personal and societal level. In my isolation, I only have myself and I’m trying to be more in tune with this person- this body and mind that is me. Some days, I need to set an alarm, force myself to get up and work on projects or take a walk. Other days, I appreciate the comfort of my bed or sit in the backyard reading chapter after chapter, without feeling like there’s anywhere else I need to be.