the quarantine— and spain— have taught me to rest

By Cynthia Roman Cabrera

I let my eyes rest. Peer over my book and lazily watch the day. The clouds are bubbles over my head. I can hear the gravel crunch under people’s passing feet. A couple saunters by, showing off the skin of last night’s sweat. The man wraps his arms across the woman’s belly like an octopus opening a jar. I let my shoulders hang, drip my head back, feel the sun magnify glass through the gaping leaves and branches. I force myself to just look, to not be busy with my eyes. 

***

For three months, my every day has been like this. The mornings come, breakfast is eaten, and the day has no structure. The pandemic has forced me into this routine. However, this was not what I imagined when I left the United States for Spain almost a year ago. When I left home, I decided I wanted to spend my time abroad and just exist. That meant I would work some job to pay necessities, learn Italian, eat good food, meet new people, and use any extra money I earned to budget travel. But, I stubbornly fought the quarantine by necessity. I needed to work to pay for the rent. Yet, I knew I was excited to break from my hustle routine of three jobs, community organizing, working on my emotionally draining masters in yet another white serving institution, and attempting to eat three meals a day. I needed a break.

The duality of rest and productivity is complicated. As a child of immigrant parents, I have always been a worker and never imagined taking a rest. At least not this soon in my adulthood. Yet, it is difficult for me to be still because I have always had to finesse to figure out the next step, staying busy as a form of survival. I have always hustled to survive. New York is made for hustlers. My parents instilled in my siblings and me the importance of work. If we wanted something, we had to work for it. I learned this quickly, and at the age of 14 had my first legal job. My parents taught me to keep my head down and work until our end. That end never had been established because retirement was never planned. I think my mom knew this and played the system the best she could. It was a survival skill she learned to guarantee that monthly welfare check to get groceries. I remember one day specifically my mom's preparation of going to the welfare office. It was a cloudy summer day and we were to spend the day in Dyckman. She had a routine of sitting the four of us, my siblings and I, down in militarized order and paced before us a warning, Vamos a salir. No toquen, no hablen. You are to be seen not heard. If we even remotely breathed out of rhythm, she would pull our ears, hard as if stretching the sound of meat. I grew accustomed to not squirming under her thigh pinches in public. She had a lot to lose in those trips to Dyckman.

People who have experienced hardships do not have time to watch the world. The world is running us over and collecting the rent. To watch life happen is to allow leisure, but rest is for the fortunate. That is what I have learned in this quarantine. Or maybe I have learned that in the time I have spent in Spain. You can often see people taking their sweet ass time walking or enjoying a cafécito at the local bar in Spain. It is common to see the parks full because people enjoy leisure. I am not sure if that is because the culture enjoys this time or because the Spanish have had time to build their wealth enough to take advantage of this leisure time. Maybe it is both. 

I feel guilty in the time I take to read and write. To lounge around not doing anything. That is a privilege I have in lockdown. Granted, I am also submitting job applications for remote positions, looking for new clients for English classes, and taking care of my home. However, is this time of rest a privilege or necessary? When was it not okay for someone to take time to just exist? Who gets to dictate who gets to relax or not? I struggle with these questions because I want to feel like I have earned this time. That despite the situation of my family or friends in the United States, I am worthy of experiencing this world beyond struggle and stress. 

This summer has been the most renewing experience of my young adulthood. I have enjoyed being outdoors in a way that would not have been granted to me living in Philadelphia, where I have my legal residence. I have permitted myself to feel safe, to let go despite the uncertainty COVID-19 has presented in our lives. I take this privilege seriously and take full advantage because I deserve it. Because if I want to continue shaping the life I want, I need to let go of the certainties the United States promises all of us. I have a renewed sense of self because I have dedicated time to other things I care about like writing, discovering community, creating a daily beach routine, learning acro yoga, and allowing space in my mind outside of worries. None of these new exciting parts of my life erase the labor of my academic and professional feats. But, I can now observe the complexity of wanting and creating a choice for me. I did not know I was capable of all this joy. I owe that to the collective slowing down COVID-19 has forced us into. Challenging the capitalist system is complicated as it is tied to so many comforts in our lives. Yet, I learned that there are comforts worth letting go to truly define what rest looks like at an individual and global level, and reckon with the lives we ultimately want to live.