It's like an end of the world scenario. It's a scene from a pandemic movie. On the train to the airport there is four of us. We walk through the empty halls of Charles de Gaulle, everything is closed. Five of us wait for the plane, there were eight people booked but three don't turn up. We are treated like royalty on the plane with an attendant each. I talk to one of the girls and ask her if she's scared. She is young, beautiful and philosophical. 'What will be will be.' she says. It's true but I rebel and action my corona virus kit. I disinfect the tv controls, seat, arms of the chairs, my mask. I have been patted down at the airport so worry about my clothes so I spray them. In my mind I ridiculously think of the virus being like sperm; you know how your parents relayed to you about the super powers of the sperm that can make their determined way through anything to the desired location? I have to stop this way of thinking. I start to read my book.
I am reading a bestseller, Untamed by Glennon Doyle. I am totally captured by this woman's fragility, courage and her sassy words. I am hoping that two weeks in solitary confinement will allow me to practice what she preaches. An excerpt -' Grief is a cocoon from which we emerge new.' This is what has been slowly happening to me over the last year and it resonates within all my cells. And being confined has also brought out parts of me that had gone into hiding from my personal war of grief and circumstances in life. I stop thinking about the sneakiness of the virus for a while and think about the future of me.
We stop at Doha, a huge empty space again, an odd figure here and there and us. On the next leg home to Sydney there are 23 on the plane. It is eerie, surreal and so quiet.
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