It is 3 in the morning and I was about to go home. I wasn't feeling well today, and so is my mom, whose red, veiny eyes show symptoms of sore eyes. She was told not to go to work after spending the whole night watching over a nephew who was ill. She insisted, despite our protestations.
The result was her catching the virus.
I wanted to go home so I can look after her. Rest doesn't come since there are still blurbs for raketship to write. A last minute call held me from leaving the workplace. I was told, by the maid, that my recovering nephew and her mother occupy my room.
There's no place for me at home.
It was a solution I brought up with my sister before leaving the house this evening. Told her our mother needs to rest, and so I'd be offering my quarters for her and Baby Diego while Lenin sleeps beside his father. It was a sketchy plan, which my mom already thumbed down.
I never thought my sibling would actually embrace the idea.
With my mom now resting, and the nephews separated, so as to avoid the contagion, there's a sense of relief knowing isolation has been achieved. And yet at the same time, knowing i'd have to give up my sanctum every time outbreaks like this happen, I might have to acknowledge that sooner or later, I would have to move out and look for a place of my own.
That, or i'd regard my workstation as my new home from now on.