I’ve been home for four weeks now.

I know how fortunate I am:

I live in a comfortable home. There’s plenty of room to move around. Plenty to do here to keep me occupied and feeling productive. We have a yard with grass and trees and flowers. My husband is here for companionship and comfort and safety. He has a steady job and an income. I am able to continue to work from home and that keeps me busy and keeps my paycheck coming. I have reliable internet, which keeps me entertained and lets me be in touch with my family and my friends.

I am happy and safe here.

For all of this I am profoundly grateful.

Stone Walls do not a Prison make, 
Nor Iron bars a Cage; 
Minds innocent and quiet take 
That for an Hermitage. 
If I have freedom in my Love, 
And in my soul am free, 
Angels alone that soar above, 
Enjoy such Liberty. 

by Richard Lovelace
From the poem 
To Althea, From Prison 

3 thoughts on “Home

    1. Thanks very much for sharing that.
      I have a memory from long long ago of my grandfather making me a tiny little house out of gum wrappers or something, and saying “Four walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a jail!” –he said four walls, not stone walls. After a time I looked up the poem and realized it didn’t mean what I’d thought it meant when I was a kid. But still, whenever I think about rooms or walls or being inside I think about that poem and about him.


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