Andrea Jardine

A long time ago, thirteen seconds to be exact but to Obi-Wan Catnobi that could feel like days, and in a galaxy far, far away, which was really just across the lawn, the princess’ words roared in his head: Help me, Obi-Wan Catnobi. You’re my only hope.

My favourite costume was from the year 2014. It seems like a lifetime ago and a completely different world to what we’re experiencing now. One of the most contentious presidential races in history is playing out before our eyes and we’re living through a pandemic that has killed over a million people worldwide. It feels like science fiction or the scary dystopian novel you’re forced to read in high school English class, such as The Handmaid's Tale, 1984, or Brave New World. All three books I highly recommend reading by the way.

Our marriage wasn’t supposed to end this quickly. We had over a decade together but it wasn’t enough. It’s harder than I thought it would be to sit in this kitchen without him. The yellow paint seems dimmer now. The white cabinets dirty. Maybe I should renovate. Bring some new life into these old bones.

Even before COVID-19 spread and the whole world was put on hold, I felt lost, stuck and alone. Two weeks before Premier Doug Ford declared a State of Emergency in Ontario, Canada, I turned 40. To say I was dreading this particular birthday is putting it mildly. I outright ignored it. I’m single, childless, living in my sister’s basement, overweight, working a thankless job that pays slightly more than minimum wage and buried in debt. This is not how I pictured myself turning 40. I didn’t think things could get worse. And then the quarantine happened.

During a pandemic, it’s easy to drown in my sorrow. I’ve dealt with depression and anxiety for the past twenty years, which makes the limited light fade to black rather quickly and heavily.

The acrid smoke Marches in One by one. Left, Right. Left, Right. Weapons drawn, Fingers on triggers Infesting my nostrils.