I can be Pollyanna about Covid-19 which I am choosing to be, (because in Australia we have so little to complain about), it is that isolation has reminded me of a million beautiful things.
Isolation for me has been an invisible, multi-faceted poet who has created lines of magical poetry about gratitude, love, patience and hope. Isolation has nudged and prodded. It has whispered in my ear how lucky I am to have a home that I love, while also delivering an important lesson that home is so much more than a roof over my head.
Home for me is so many things and the best gift of isolation is that I love my home where I live under my little Tenterfield bubble, but it is also a place that I suspect resides in my heart.
Home is where I put my gum boots, hang my coat, work and keep my camera.
Home is where I live, laugh and learn.
Home is where I retreat to when the world overwhelms.
Home is where I spend time with those whom I love.
Home is a wet muzzle of a dog on my knee.
Home is where I feel safe.
Home is silent when the world is loud.
Home is the smell of rosemary in the air.
Home is the sensation that Archie and Rissie are close.
Home is the smell of bread in the oven.
Home is the taste of salt on my tongue.
Home is cooking food for those I love.
Home is about being grateful for what I have.
Home is knowing that with gratitude I will always have what I need.
Home is something that allows isolation to be a blessing rather than a curse.
Home is happiness and love.
Home is a table of food shared with those I love.
Home is realising that I am hesitant about the end of isolation because home has been my happy place. But then knowing it will be ok because isolation has reminded me that home will always be, for me, a place of happiness, regardless of where I am.
Home is in the heart.