“Daria, is my breakfast ready?” Roared Fahad as he buttoned up his shirt.
“Almost, just a couple of minutes till the eggs are done, my dear husband.”
Daria always wakes up an hour before Fahad to have time to freshen up and prepare breakfast. Fahad gets agitated when she doesn’t look her best in the morning.
Fahad strolls into the kitchen without even acknowledging Daria, pulls out the chair at the top of the table, and takes a seat. Fahad examines his plate, cup, fork, and knife thoroughly. …
“Hello, my name is Fahad, and I am 6 years old. Today I bring with me this glass ball to show you all.” Fahad babbled, extending his arms out, holding a snow globe with both hands. Fahad continues with a breathy voice and a contagious smile: “My mommy brought this ball for me from when she went to London. When you shake the ball, it starts to snow inside.” His demeanor changes. “She also said to me that I have to be very careful not to throw it. If I throw it, it will break.” He concludes.
“You can go back to your seat now,” said Nora, the first-grade teacher. …
Today is the day. Daria wakes up to the constant yelling and chatter of her mother’s excitement.
“Come on, Daria, we have to go to the salon and get you ready,” her mother shouts.
Daria shifts herself off her bed, drags her feet across the room, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. She grabs herself a cold, bland toast and a cup of coffee to go. With her eyes barely open, Daria opens the front door to the blinding morning light. Daria’s mother, Mona, is already waiting in the car impatiently.
Daria hasn’t put on her seat belt yet when her mother says with a nervous break in her…
I open my eyes, and the first thing I realize is that I can’t move. I force my eyes shut and start panicking. My heart is racing, I’m hyperventilating, I’m stuck.
Last night was one of those nights where I passed out on the couch, aimlessly watching a tv show I wasn’t even paying attention to. It is starting to become a habit. I only fall asleep with the tv on.
I know it’s disrupting my sleep, but it is the only way I feel serene enough to sleep.
My mind is racing now. I slowly try to regain control of my body. If only I can move a single toe or a finger, I’ll know I’m ok. …
Really, prisoners? What could we possibly learn from prisoners?
I am not writing this post to debate the innocence or guilt of the prisoners referenced here but, instead, I choose to take the lessons they learned by spending days, weeks, months, years, and in some cases, decades in solitary confinement.
Solitary confinement is extreme and we are not really prisoners. Most of us will not ever experience what these prisoners have. Yet, this has not stopped some people from comparing their lives in quarantine to being some sort of a mental prison. Me being one of them.
Some of these men have had access to people, TVs and books. But, some had nothing but their minds to keep them company. …