My home “office” is little more than a card table for a desk and an exercise ball for a chair. I’ve got a few books, random notes, my MacBook, an iPad, charging cords, a glass of water and cup of coffee.
It works fine — though I have to get up and move fairly regularly because I notice my lower back stiffening up.
My regular office has a window behind me that faces the woods. On any given day I can turn around and see the trees bending in the wind, deer grazing, turkeys pecking for food, rabbits and squirrels foraging on the small hillside. I’ve even caught glimpse of a few foxes from time to time.
But the view from my home office is superior.
It faces windows on two sides on the front corner of our house. Each morning I pull back the curtains and enjoy that first glimpse of the Southern sun.
I look out and see the street and a few of our neighbors houses. At any given time the street is quiet — quieter than normal. There isn’t as much nature, but there is generally still some activity.
I see my neighbors come and go a little, but it seems most everyone is staying put indoors.
Kids run out every so often. When the weather is a bit warmer they’re on their bikes, crowding the otherwise empty street while making sure to give each other enough healthy social distance.
Once in a while one of the neighborhood dogs will bark or make an entrance into the front yard, drawn there by the commotion of the kids.
Families often get out and go for walks together.
And it makes me smile.
It all makes me smile.
We’re all here, giving each other the necessary space required, but also acknowledging each other’s presence with a smile and wave.
And to me those seem like appropriate expressions of respect, empathy and affection.
I’m finding as much as I’m growing weary of this space, this isolation, this social distancing, it’s also growing on me. Not because I like not seeing you, not talking to you, not listening to you, but because I’ve become aware of other things I typically miss.
My view has changed. And I’m better for it.
It’s growing on me because respect, empathy and affection are growing in me.
So as much as I’m ready to get out, to invite you over and to share some common space together, each day I look forward to pulling back those curtains and sharing this space, a smile, and a wave.