Motion to Slay

I have no reason to do anything but be grateful at this moment…but FUCK, I’m bored. I was super excited to drive the empty streets of the Tampa Bay area to go to work to pick up a legal pad and transfer files from my desktop import folder to our remote system. I left the house with my bar card ready if I got stopped.

I didn’t.

I flew over the bridge with the windows down, AC/DC blaring and hair sticking to my lip gloss. It was glorious. Seemed like any other weekend stop to the office, except for the complete lack of cars on the bridge. 

I pulled in to the office, already feeling reminiscent after working remotely for only a week. The parking lot, usually dotted with at least 3 or 4 cars belonging to over-dedicated employees, was barren.

Not. A. Car. It was weird. 

Walked into the building, after hitting the elevator buttons with my elbow, and it was cavernous. The news the lone security guard had on echoed throughout the lobby, and the single janitor, wearing a face mask and gloves, wouldn’t even look at me, as though she would contract the disease just by eye constant. I elbow-push-buttoned my way up to our floor, which had signs on the clear glass doors, instructing any mail/packages services to just leave them at the door. Another attorney happen to be in the office at the same time I was, and I caught him as he was leaving. Even after only one week, I felt I hadn’t seen him in decades. I wished I could walk right up to him and catch up—but I couldn’t. 

I walked in to my office—a sight for sore eyes. You really don’t realize how much you miss normalcy until it’s gone. My chair. My planner and lamps. My vases full of candy. On the way in, I passed the kitchen, were a plastic container of half-eaten Publix donuts sat on one of the glass tables. It reminded my of a scene from a post-apocalyptic movie where life just suddenly stopped.

And realized: that is what is happening now. 

I am living a historical moment. Not post-apocalyptic…but pre-apocalyptic. We are living a chapter of a history book, with an ending that will not be happy. 

I sat down in my chair and logged on. It felt familiar. Normal. Comfortable. But I know it was evanescent. I would go back home, on empty streets, most places closed, nobody out and about, to figure out what the hell I would do with the rest of my day. 

St. Petersburg in particular is known for its sidewalk life. People milling about outside the myriad of local cafes, restaurants, bars and galleries. We are proud of our local tribe and do everything we can to nurture and preserve it. It is devastating to see it revert to the ghost town it once was, decades age. 

When I returned to our little 1948 house, which I love; I stared at the garage wall from my car for a solid 3 minutes. I was trying to think about what I’d do with the rest of my day, now that I couldn’t go downtown; or to the beach, or one of St. Pete’s numerous parks. 

One of the good things to come out of this pandemic (aside from camaraderie and solidarity) is the opportunity for creativity to flourish. When everything was open, and we lived our normal lives, we had time only on the weekends to catch up on our passions. That time was interrupted, however, with chores and “adult stuff”we didn’t have the energy to do during the week—like laundry, vacuuming and mowing the lawn. Those creative outlets we fostered as children, which we now characterize as “hobbies” fell by the wayside, as we ground through our days: sleep, work, eat, sleep, work. But now? We have the time. 

Now, we have the breathing space to allow ourselves to revisit our passions as children. Our curiosities and interests. Our creative outlets. What makes us human. Because certainly, we are not just what we do to make money. We are more. 

So. After staring at the wall and my steering wheel for weird amount of time, I walked in to my house; hugged my husband and dog and made myself a gourmet grilled cheese; complete with baby Swiss cheese and home-smoked pork loin. Then? I played with makeup.

For three hours. 

In fact—for the week that I’ve been able to work at home, I’ve done makeup looks each day. Why? Because the sun isn’t down by the time I’m finished working. Because I want to further engage myself and remember life is not just work-eat-sleep. 

So, in these absurdly stressful and uncertain times, find comfort in your forgotten creativity. You were not always a lawyer, or an accountant, or construction worker, or doctor. You were an artist. A chef. A musician. A dancer. 

Embrace the time you’ve been given to rediscover your whole person. It won’t last long. 

Stay safe. Be well. We stand alone together.