Every morning, I wake up to the blinding image of my 24-year-old sister throwing open the curtains of our temporarily shared bedroom window. Armed with a huge cup of chai, she is ready to tackle her work e-mails before I can even process which day of the week it is.
Every time I tip-toe into the kitchen to make lemonade for myself, some mysterious force alerts my family members and four voices arise from different parts of the house, asking me to make a glass for each of them.
Every meal involves my father serenading us with new statistics about the virus, my grandmother chiming in with dubious news from India, delivered express through WhatsApp.
Of course, these small inconveniences are insignificant. I am thankful for having a roof over my head, a loving family to spend time with and an internship to keep my brain well-oiled.
But it is easy to get under one another's skins when you are cooped up together for more than a month.
A couple of weeks ago, the house was teeming with tension and outbursts simmered on the horizon. We were not used to spending so much time with one another, and four working adults suddenly having to adapt to working from home was challenging, to say the least.
Two weeks on, however, a sense of calm prevails. We have learnt to respect one another's space and make small sacrifices, such as taking turns to do the cooking and cleaning.
My father has reluctantly agreed to ban discussions of the virus from the dinner table and my mother has taken to gathering the family for a round of carrom and the occasional karaoke.
One thing I will take away from this experience, other than my freshly minted expertise in making round rotis, is the realisation that having a friendly and supportive family helps me stay sane. This circuit breaker period has forced us together in a way no family vacation ever has and, for that, I am grateful.
Living with my 75-year-old grandmother has also taught me that my actions can have negative consequences on others. Contracting the virus may not harRead More – Source
Every morning, I wake up to the blinding image of my 24-year-old sister throwing open the curtains of our temporarily shared bedroom window. Armed with a huge cup of chai, she is ready to tackle her work e-mails before I can even process which day of the week it is.
Every time I tip-toe into the kitchen to make lemonade for myself, some mysterious force alerts my family members and four voices arise from different parts of the house, asking me to make a glass for each of them.
Every meal involves my father serenading us with new statistics about the virus, my grandmother chiming in with dubious news from India, delivered express through WhatsApp.
Of course, these small inconveniences are insignificant. I am thankful for having a roof over my head, a loving family to spend time with and an internship to keep my brain well-oiled.
But it is easy to get under one another's skins when you are cooped up together for more than a month.
A couple of weeks ago, the house was teeming with tension and outbursts simmered on the horizon. We were not used to spending so much time with one another, and four working adults suddenly having to adapt to working from home was challenging, to say the least.
Two weeks on, however, a sense of calm prevails. We have learnt to respect one another's space and make small sacrifices, such as taking turns to do the cooking and cleaning.
My father has reluctantly agreed to ban discussions of the virus from the dinner table and my mother has taken to gathering the family for a round of carrom and the occasional karaoke.
One thing I will take away from this experience, other than my freshly minted expertise in making round rotis, is the realisation that having a friendly and supportive family helps me stay sane. This circuit breaker period has forced us together in a way no family vacation ever has and, for that, I am grateful.
Living with my 75-year-old grandmother has also taught me that my actions can have negative consequences on others. Contracting the virus may not harRead More – Source
