An Ode to Quarantine Here, in the kitchen of many memories lies new ones. New memories of dinner amongst two people as they think about those who cannot dine with them. In the kitchen of many memories conversations are lost as hours together leave for little to be discussed. In the kitchen of many memories There are dirty dishes, old food, dying flowers, open wine bottles, all left for the next day in which no one can leave. Surrounded by the sounds of country music, I find the joy of new noise. My mother swaying, finding joy in mine. We both find the rhythm, moving in a comfort that had once been lost. Surrounded by the smell of moms cooking, finding excitement in her creation. Surrounded by a love that not even you can destroy. Only you can make something that once seemed so normal become so dreadful. Only you can take moments that used to be natural and turn them into something seeming so forced. Only you can uproot all stability in my life, yet continue as if you are not to blame. But you are. --Taylor