Quarantine Day 6
"You can't go there, Adrian," I said, gingerly pulling my son back even though the situation was more than 4 feet away from us. The situation being a family that was just casually lounging on the artificial grassy knoll. Their 3 year old son stared at us as we stared back.
We slowly receded and went back to our original playing spot. We were at the wooden deck overlooking the broad skyline, the sunset streaking the sky hints of orange and crimson. The deck was a good distance away from the grassy knoll and we made damn sure of it the moment we stepped onto the rooftop. It was just us and the other family out on that cool evening.
It felt unreal, almost dystopian. Is this what it will be like? People just watching each other from afar, afraid and uncertain, like we had our own radius of personal space that cannot be threatened. A pang of sadness hit me as I realized that this might be my son's future. That boy could have been his friend. Instead they just watched each other like foreign objects. Is this how he'll fall in love?
I watched him waddle excitedly around the man-made garden. He was curious, touching the walls and the floors and even squatting to play with the dirt in between the walking stones.
Sure, its only natural for babies to be curious but a part of me could tell that it was also because he has not been outside for so long. He has explored every inch of the apartment and at this point, even the TV does not excite him anymore. He wanted trees. He wanted space.
The air felt cool and fresh against our skin. Oxygen. Wow, when was the last time I actually used that word.
Earth is taking a break...
I read on Twitter. Perhaps this was for the better. Climate change was getting critical anyway. It felt good to see less cars on the road and more animals in sight. You could almost smell the difference in the air.
But I cannot help but feel sad for my kids. How I hope this will end soon. I can only pray...
We slowly receded and went back to our original playing spot. We were at the wooden deck overlooking the broad skyline, the sunset streaking the sky hints of orange and crimson. The deck was a good distance away from the grassy knoll and we made damn sure of it the moment we stepped onto the rooftop. It was just us and the other family out on that cool evening.
It felt unreal, almost dystopian. Is this what it will be like? People just watching each other from afar, afraid and uncertain, like we had our own radius of personal space that cannot be threatened. A pang of sadness hit me as I realized that this might be my son's future. That boy could have been his friend. Instead they just watched each other like foreign objects. Is this how he'll fall in love?
I watched him waddle excitedly around the man-made garden. He was curious, touching the walls and the floors and even squatting to play with the dirt in between the walking stones.
Sure, its only natural for babies to be curious but a part of me could tell that it was also because he has not been outside for so long. He has explored every inch of the apartment and at this point, even the TV does not excite him anymore. He wanted trees. He wanted space.
The air felt cool and fresh against our skin. Oxygen. Wow, when was the last time I actually used that word.
Earth is taking a break...
I read on Twitter. Perhaps this was for the better. Climate change was getting critical anyway. It felt good to see less cars on the road and more animals in sight. You could almost smell the difference in the air.
But I cannot help but feel sad for my kids. How I hope this will end soon. I can only pray...
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