I’ve been slowly reintroducing myself to the world.
Following six weeks of cocooning, the restrictions were eased to allow those of us who were cocooning to go outside for exercise as long as we stay within 5 km of our homes. A move that I suspect Arwen—the dog—was more excited about than me because it means the number of walks she gets a day has returned to normal. While she is with me at my parents-in-law, P has been the only person able to take her further than the garden.
The village is within our 5 km limit, so that’s where we walk. I grab the lead and my earphones and off we go. We are still clearly in rural Ireland, but it is slightly less rural than Arwen is used to. Footpaths are still a bit of a novelty for her and she is not a huge fan of the fact that she has to stay on her lead for the entire walk.
I’ve been noticing things I haven’t before. Like the fact that there is a scrapyard right behind the grotto. The Póg Mo Thóin graffiti on the wall by the post office. The cat and mouse drawing outside the garda station. The Korean War Memorial. The river. I’m almost certain I spotted alpacas and an assortment of other animals behind the gate of someone’s backyard farm.
The guidelines for the medication I take have changed, so I no longer need to cocoon. Regular old quarantine is enough, which means I can move home soon. And, yes, I am aware that describing quarantine as “regular old” says a lot about how much our lives have changed since all this began.
As I continue readjusting to being out in the world, I am reminded of how incredibly lucky I am. To be able to cocoon is a privilege. A privilege many people may not have.
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