Sterilized Incubator Home

I step through the front door and immediately take the mask off. I grab my to-go boxed dinner from the refrigerator of the break room. Music plays in my ears making me feel like I’m in a movie, as I walk down the hall lined with patient rooms. My bedroom door welcomes me.

Usually, I’m tempted to feel lonely after my daily walks, as I remember where I live and that I’m a single person out in the world. But not today. Today the outside felt lonely and my room felt comforting. My current place of residence is oddly fitting to today’s current regulations. As I walked down the hall with to-go box in hand and mask in the other it felt like two different worlds collided.

Outside was alive with flowers, clean air that smelled wonderful, and cars buzzing passed on occasion. However, the combination of an overcast sky and a mask on my face made the outside feel like it was slowly dying, and that I was deteriorating with it. Humanity no longer existed. Feeling my hands go numb from the chilly weather and breathing in the smell of dust from the mask, I made my way down the sidewalk. “Welcome to the Apocalypse” flashed through my mind, as the opening title for a movie about the world, and how I feel walking in it.

Then I walked inside, taking the mask off, and felt like I had stepped back into my sterilized, incubator home. A world with white doors, walls, bright lights that seemed to last for miles, and faded carpeting that guided me down the hall. I was free to breath the air. The warmth gave a lively feeling to the inside, but the hospitalized look made things feel dull. I felt like I should have been wearing a white lab coat, as I made my way to my office sized room, with mask and to-go box in hand. “The Institution” flashed through my mind as the insert title, the scene change, in this movie about the world, and how I feel walking in it.

What a strange reality this is? I closed the door to my room and I had never felt more at home in my little space.

Dear Earth, heal soon! Your citizens need you. Life needs to feel free, livable and productive again. The pause you’ve taken has now been trying everyone’s patience. Yes, we have been learning and learning is always good. However, for those of us not so lucky to be living with our families, or with someone who feels like family, life feels like we are floating in outer space. For those of us who have lost our jobs life feels like we are walking on the moon, kicking up dust, and staring at you hoping to come home one day. For those of us who have to continue working life feels like we are on Mars trying to make it through another dust storm and braving it because we have no choice. For those of us living in a place that isn’t our own life feels like we got isolated in our spaceship. The only way to a better place is if you get better. Earth, we don’t know what’s been going on, but we are doing our best to continue on. Get well soon and please give fear a good, swift kick for us. That would really help!

Much love from,


P.S. I’ll be in my spaceship for a while so please send some good radio suggestions. Thanks!

Then I ended the story I was writing so that I could heat up my dinner. Life sure is quiet living in a sterilized incubator home in an apocalyptic world. Who know’s the stories that will come out of this?

Published by fosteringcreation

I'm a writer, performer, and creative person. This is my official website. I hope it inspires others!

2 thoughts on “Sterilized Incubator Home

  1. That was really awesome, Barbara! Thanks for sharing. It sounds like you are doing well. This is so hard for everyone in different ways.

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