quarantine diaries | volume IV
It’s 10pm on a Thursday. I wander into my garden in my slippers and dressing gown, followed by my dog, Olly. I sit on the chair, Olly curls up beside me. I lean back and look up.
Every night around this time, I do the same, I gaze at the infinite numbers of glowing stars. As most people, I’ve been finding this lockdown hard, but I also feel that I really needed this space. This time to think and to let my mind unwind.
A lot of funny things have been happening up there recently. The last few nights, I was lucky enough to see a shooting star. It’s weird to think that we’re all on a tiny blue dot we call home and that this world has suddenly driven to a halt, leaving the normality of our day to day routine entirely blank. Everything has changed, become unfamiliar. Yet we all remain under such a familiar place. The glaze of light that connects us as humans. Allowing us to feel united with those who are among us or those who we have lost.
It’s comforting to know I can call my nan, that we can both sit under the same stars, talk about how bright Venus looks, or how big the moon is. We may be isolated from each other, but this shared experience allows us to connect. I feel in awe of how effortlessly the stars exist in solitude, the original social distance participants. Yet, they exist in such peace and harmony. I feel like gazing into infinity makes me feel so insignificant, makes me realize that our earth is so tiny. That even something so large as this pandemic is temporary, and that it will be fixed. We all have this uncertainty in common, we’re all together on this earth, we’re all staring into the same magnificent universe.
All the tomorrows we have left in this lockdown, I will do the same. I will sit on this chair, and I will glance up.
There’s not a better time to lose yourself in the night sky.