How are you.

I just realized that I haven’t been asked that question in so long. Stuck at home since February, every day is a survival game. I feel as if I am hanging by the thread, doing my best not to irritate the thin balance by adding more tension. How am I? It is such a luxurious question. As long as I don’t wake up with a sore throat or a cough, I am fine. I stopped asking for more.

Especially now, I am striped down to the lowest level of the Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. My daughter suffered from her usual constipation for a few days. I have been dealing with the stress of her constipation problem since the day I began her potty training. I don’t know about other moms, but when my daughter suffers from her difficulty of going to the bathroom, it distresses me so. I experience my blood draining from my body with fear every single day she does not go and relieve herself. So when she finally went to the bathroom and took care of her issue, I was the happiest person you can ever imagine. Forget self-actualization. Forget my esteem needs. If we all go another day fully fed, we all go to the bathroom on schedule, and we all have a good night of sleep, I am fine.

So how am I?

I’m fine.

Things are rolling, even though I don’t really understand how. I still have a roof over my head, and I am able to go to store to buy some fresh groceries. I do find myself checking on the second stimulus paycheck development more often than I’d like lately, but I know I am not the only one. We are trying to reduce our possessions, get rid of the things that bind us. I look forward to donating a lot of my piled-up stuff, and I look forward to packing once again. I love my current house, but I am always up for the next chapter of our lives. Perhaps, this time, I will finally actualize my dream of adopting a gypsy lifestyle.

But for now, I count my blessings. I am blessed to sit on my deck any time throughout the day and situate myself by an open green field. I surround myself with sounds of birds, whooshing of trees, and crickets, and I can sense all my stress just vanishing in an instant. I listen to my quiet music, I type on my computer, and then when my mind gets too dull I drag my inactive daughter and go for our daily walk under the hot sun. While I busy myself making simple lunch and dinner, my whole day passes by quickly. I am gently floating on the river of life, following the rhythm of my gentle, mundane daily chores.

And I think everything I ever dreamed of when I was young is happening, unfolding, right here, right now, all at once.

So how am I?

I am fine. More than fine, actually.