Over a month into quarantine and we are going where the light is. Shining the light on the joy instead of retreating into the dark. My enneagram four comes out now and then as I sink into my feelings, but then we go outside and shine the light on, experiencing the sprinklers for the first time anew every day. The sun filling the sky with clementine-colored light every morning, like summer in spring.
Outdoors is where the magic happens. Where we dig for acorns and acorn hats under the tree in the yard. I love watching my son dig his trowel into the earth and turning it over, the dirt and mulch smelling warm and loamy on the cloudiest of days, where my hair just cannot be tamed.
Sometimes we curl up indoors, making snowball fights with puffy craft balls until the living room floor is more rainbow than cream. Those giggles? Bring the light to the days that stretch into each other. Where yesterday becomes today becomes tomorrow and we all miss our friends.
Indoors is where the woven wrap becomes a hammock under the kitchen table, before he turns it into a superhero cape and races through the house, ready to save the day.
And sometimes, I sneak away from everyone to find the inner light with yoga. Bending into downward dog and back up into crow. Leaning forward into an arm stand and falling out. Finding strength in the unknown.
And then, when the worksheets and art projects threaten to take over everything again and again, we get to go back outside where we play together. Because the light is there - where we’re together.
