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 


    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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