Daily Struggle With Space and Time

When my whole life has been put on hold because of all the coronavirus lockdowns, I cannot profess that I am a happy camper even if I have all the time in the world to be and act like one. Time management is my least concern when all I can think of is that I feel deprived of my pre-COVID-19-era right to have limitless access to the multivariate loci points of my surrounding space. The dailiness of my struggle to claim my approved walk within a short space of time keeps on reminding me of what I used to have, but no longer do. Exerting my right to physical exercise has become a dull, reiterative activity devoid of any real purpose ever since gyms have banned us from their privileged dimensions.
For all the above reasons,
I can’t wait
to re-slip into my worn-out lycra leggings,
to re-step into my unworn tennis shoes,
to re-pack my quick-drying towel in my gym bag,
to re-sneak into my daughter’s room to get a scrunchie,
to re-pick a new way to tie my hair in a different knot,
to re-take a last look at my figure in the mirror.
But, before I lock the door behind me,
I need to find the key to unlock the door of my craved place,
because access is still denied to this interior space,
because the time separating me from granting my wish
has occupied the storage space of my
mindset's capacity
For all the above reasons,
I have to hold still
before I am set free to enclose myself in the spaces of my choice,
before my sweaty face pops up in breathless distance from the other ones,
before my repositioned body fills up the void of my reclaimed mat.
But, until I re-row on the ergometer,
I’d better take a closer look at what has been washed ashore,
seek self-insight into the anticipatory readjustment period,
make a mental note to rehabilitate the bridge between space and time.
Angela Ypsilanti.