Sitting on the sofa bed in the study, I close my eyes and feel the sun on my skin. It is past five o’clock in the afternoon and yet the sun still retains its warmth. It was not so long ago that I had to put on gloves, scarf, and hat when leaving work at this time of day. The axis of the earth has turned and with it the seasons. It is time to dig out my camping gear, dust off my bags, and begin planning for week-end traipse in the countryside.
Eyes still closed I picture myself walking in the hills of Wales. Or maybe I could be cycling on country lanes towards Lands End or Dorset meadery. The five o’clock sun would warm my body, the rhythm of my legs carrying me further along a path with no end. It would be time to start thinking about a camp for the night. Eyes alert, I would scrutinise my surroundings in hope of finding some place nice.
But this would have to wait. I will not know this year the blissful caress of the Spring sun on my tired being. Nor will I know the awakening of my body after a long winter spent dreaming of wild camps.
I open my eyes and look at the sun. Its presence makes the days easier to bear. It is simple to get out, to lie in the grass, to wait for this to pass. But it is also a reminder of what I am missing out on, of what I have been waiting for. Easter should have been the first proper escapade of the year, as every year. My body rusted from winter cold, it would slowly stir to life in the fields and lanes of the countryside, remembering the freedom that comes from longer, warmer days.
Only Easter is a few days away and I cannot leave my immediate surroundings.
I know it is pointless thinking about it, but today I cannot help it. My mind is still adjusting to this new world and it is okay to be sad for what we cannot have this year. So I let the feeling wash over me knowing that tomorrow is going to be different.
I am still healthy as are my family and friends. I am still lucky.