In the before
The alarm goes off at 6:30 am. I hear the sounds of a bustling city. Sirens wailing, birds chirping, cars racing.
I grab my work phone and scan through messages and emails notifying me of who needs what scheduled. I hear my boyfriend in the kitchen making me coffee. He delivers it to me in bed. What an act of love that he does this before heading in to do it for strangers all day.
An hour later, he leaves to work. He rides his bike down Santa Monica Blvd and sees the bustling streets filled with laughter, and people on a mission to get into their agenda-filled days.
It is destined to be a busy Tuesday in sunny Los Angeles — it always is.
I go to a 10 am yoga class. Stretch my limbs in a room full of individuals trying to better their body, mind, and soul as a collective group. We share props and are guided by the hands of our teacher when out of place.
Afterward, I swing by Trader Joe’s. Grab my free sample of their new quinoa corn salad handed out in little cups and my free mini-coffee.
Then I head to Target to pick up toilet paper. They always have so many options to choose from. On my way home, I swing by his coffee shop to get some more work done. The vibe in the cafe is fun and carefree. Cups with the word “bitch” printed on them are used as props for photos to later be shared. Everyone is just looking for their next Instagram like.
For dinner, we pick a buzzing ramen spot on Melrose Blvd. A line of 40 people deep is what it takes to get in but we don’t care. Slammed in like sardines, we form together like a snake and then sit together family-style too. There is no such thing as being too close when our reward is these noodles.
Once home, we run to Ralph’s to grab an ice cream. We scan the aisle for 20 minutes browsing through all the flavors and choices. A vegan cookie dough flavor is what we land on. No line? Score.
We end up on the couch watching a movie we have been waiting to be released through the middle of the night.
My body is healthy, my belly is full. I am sitting next to the man I love.
There is nothing else I would rather do. Nowhere else I would rather be.
This is paradise.
In the After
No alarm goes off. I wake to the sound of birds chirping and my neighbors walking in the apartment above me. No cars, nor sirens. It is eerily quiet.
I check my work phone. All cancellations. No one wants to risk exposure to the virus so there is absolutely nothing to schedule. My boyfriend stays home, so at least I still get coffee in the quarantine. There is no work to go to right now. It is all scarily on hold — until further notice they say. He files unemployment just in case. Bills still have to be paid.
Los Angeles, including all major cities, has an apocalyptic like quality to it now. There is no longer the bustling of business to attend to.
I decide to sign up for a virtual yoga. It is done through a screen. We still connect but now miles apart. Instead of the building binding us together, a new shared fear that brings us all here. No props. No touching.
The days feel longer. Minutes turn to hours, hours turn to days. The sun rises and the sets around us, while we remain in the same place. Except, that is, to brave going to a store — the home of the pandemonium. Hoping you can hoard enough to not have to go again.
There are no more samples. Only empty shelves, and lines and lines of people. There is no longer an option for toilet paper. Grab the paper towels, or leave empty-handed.
Oh and the coffee shop? Empty. The ramen place on Melrose? Desolate. We have one last ice cream in the freezer and we will savour it. We will watch movies all hours of every day, even the ones we never had any interest in.
Games will be played. Puzzles will be done. Stories will be written. Love will be made.
My body is healthy, my belly is full. I am sitting next to the man I love.
There is nothing else I would rather do. Nowhere else I would rather be.
This is paradise.
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Previously published on Hello, Love on Medium.com.
Photo credit: Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash