Ritual (Over 100 Quarantine Days)

When the work

is done,

I retire to the garage

to smoke my cannabis,

watch a sitcom rerun

and unwind

as I always do.

I walk to

the front of the house

to check 

my daughter's car

to see 

if it is locked,

as I always do.

I walk around

the black

2012 Honda Civic

and check the doors

and the windows

as I always do.

Noting this ritual,

as I have done over 

100 quarantine days 

in a row, I numbly think:

"There is 

absolutely nothing special 

about this day."

At that moment,

I became conscious

of the purple in the dusk,

the melody in the breeze,

the hopeful laughter of 

the children playing 

up the street,

the scent of her hair

lingering from an

earlier embrace

and the warmth knowing

all was safe,

calm and bright 

for the moment,

and the truth 

whispered in my ear:

"Every single thing

about this day

is special."