THE ISOLATION JOURNALS - DAY 19 - THE MIRACLE OF BREATH

Today’s prompt:

Write about a time when you (or your character) experienced something that may be a common human event (for example: scratching an itch, sneezing, petting an animal, etc.), with concrete language that brings the experience to life. Try using all of the senses in order to avoid cliché.

The Miracle of Breath 

The mask is itchy against my face. The pale pink cotton felt light and smooth when I selected it from my bin of scraps. Thirteen years ago, I washed the fabric in the mildest detergent before using it to sew a baby quilt for my first-born niece. I thought time would soften the fabric, but I was wrong.

The mask is snug against my face. The patient, precise woman on the internet showed me how to use the flexible wire and shoelace ties to ensure a tight seal on the nose and cheeks. Forty-plus years ago, I learned how to use a sewing machine in Home Ec class. I thought those old-fashioned skills would never come in handy, but I was wrong.

The mask is moist against my face. The condensation from my breathing collects in the tight-weave fabric billowing in and out. Sixteen years ago, I would have sold my soul for the promise of being alive today. I thought cancer was the worst thing that could happen to me, but I was wrong.

I arrive at my destination: the Rose Garden in Golden Gate Park. It’s April, and the first blooms of spring are just making their appearance.

I take off my mask. I breathe in. I breathe out.

My lungs expand. My face feels free.

The air smells sweet – even without the roses.