three years after my last post, i am writing from a country gripped by a pandemic. a third of the global population is on quarantine from covid-19, a flu-like virus that has infected more than 700,000 people worldwide. save for a quick food delivery to help an elderly neighbor out, i've been staying put and working from home for the past month. these are surreal times that feel like a dystopian novel, where i am but a background character. and more than ever i realize how alone my family and i are. how adrift. no relatives checking in and only a handful of real friends to check up on. we while our days away eating and sleeping and watching gadget screens; my mother ever spry doing the bulk of the domestic chores, me doggedly focusing on work, my brother holing up in his room, as he has been doing since returning to the family fold. my heart is heavy: with apprehension for my underdog family, empathy for my country, loneliness for myself, and i've found myself weeping almost every day as a result. hormones on crack. the person i was hoping would be my rock in all this is both physically and emotionally far away, and i don't think he will be coming back. and even if he does, he will not find me where i was. i've run out of excuses to stay.
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