I am happy, but unsettled. Monumental life changes during a pandemic are, understandably, wrought with complexities; the thought of holding onto moments of happiness feels somehow criminal, undeserved. Covid has left the world in stasis, and although I am living in a new country, I feel I have only seen glimpses of the town I now call home. Beautiful glimpses, but still…. The virus has stitched a shell over the sun, spread a new brand of silence across the sky. Strangers long for each other in unexplored and unexpected ways. I live my contentment in whispers now, hold joy close to my chest, like a secret. Who am I to have these things, when so much has been lost? I know I am lucky.
Do not confuse feeling unsettled with doubt. I have no doubts about the decision to shed a life that was strangled by heat and the kind of violence only a city can offer up as daily garnish. I have no doubts about trading in that life for one that is awash in green and love and more possibility than I could have imagined. I have no doubts about abandoning the noise and taking the quiet gently into my hands. I am unsettled, but I know I have made the right choice.
For now, I live as if in a dream, on the precipice of daring to imagine that one day I will awaken to the sounds of a new world, one no longer trapped under the thumb of fear . I secretly yearn for the backdrop to reveal itself, to show me who I can become in this new place, or what parts of myself I can rediscover. The mist may have descended for a time, but I finally feel certain that it will clear. This, I now realise, is the nature of hope.
And so, perhaps happiness will hold its breath for just a while longer, wait patiently for me to peel back the layers and look clearly into the eyes of this new life I have forged for myself. I am content in this new longing, in this new waiting. I have already waited lifetimes.