I took one step at a time down the cold hardwood stairs. So many people have used them that they feel worn down and slick under my bare feet. I stop for only a moment still near the top to listen to the news below me in the living room,“A spike in COVID-19 cases reported-” stop I think “Fire continues to engulf Australia-'' that's enough “Please stay at least six feet away from all extended friends and family-” I can't take it. I tell myself I can't take it anymore! I repeat again and again and again. I contemplate turning back around, pretending nothing changed from last summer, and wrapping myself in an illusion of contentment. It had been so hard since the shut down. It had been hard for a lot of people. I was no exception even though I knew I wasn't the worst off. I'm already up, what's the use? I tell myself before continuing my descent. Once I get down to the main floor I slump on the couch. 

“Breakfast?” My mom asks fiddling with the unfamiliar remote.

“Eh, I'm not hungry,” I say, as the people on the news continue talking behind me. 

“You sure?” I'm trying to drown them out.

“Yeah, I'll eat later.” The news clicks off.

The cabin we rented is quaint. I've been in a couple like it considering our tri-annual trip to Tennessee, but this one is nice. The deep colors and the bare wood make the air feel warm, not hot, just warm. It's big but there are small trinkets set on every open flat surface available, and the yellow lights make the whole cabin seem like it's always golden hour. Upstairs there is a bedroom and a loft where my sister and I sleep, but downstairs is what sets this cabin apart from the others. There is one big room with a soft white carpet. In the middle of the room is a bigger-than-average-stained-wood pool table. We were about halfway through our trip so we had used it a couple times.

My dad comes through the slim hallway to my right and sits at the uneven table. Each step in this house is much like that of my home back in Ohio, each step makes the floor and the walls moan as if they were just waking up from a deep sleep. 

“Whatcha' thinkin about?” My mom asks, but I know what that question means. I hate it. It means I look concerned and she wants me to get my mind off of whatever is swirling around me. 

“Not much” I keep eye contact so she doesn't ask again. I don't want to talk about the pandemic, or fire, or death. I'm sick of corruption. I'm sick of everything.

“Are you doing ok?” She says trying to read the incomprehensible emotion behind my eyes. An emotion I wouldn't dare ask her to describe. I'm not even sure what it was, maybe a mixture of fear and tinted hope, or maybe sadness, maybe frustration or anger, but maybe it was tiredness. Maybe I was tired of watching things crumble. I'm still not sure. 

“I'm fine.” I answer- such a lame excuse to the question she asked. 

“How about we play a game,” yet another ploy to distract me from the world falling apart outside our window. I only nod in agreement.

Half an hour of bumbling indecision later I ended up downstairs, pool stick in hand. It doesn't matter if you know how to play pool or not. I don't even remember if I was stripes or solids at the time. All I remember is the brisk chill from the mountain air sweeping in from the cracked window at any chance it got. The balls clanked against each other at random intervals. It kept my mind off of the news, that and the sting of the mountain air on my bare arms. It made me feel alive. I remember the music from my mom's phone dancing around me, Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles was on.

“Little darling, it's a long cold lonely winter

Little darling-”

I began singing it. I felt like the lyrics described how I was feeling so well. That summer had been longer and lonelier than any of the ones prior. 

“Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting”

I barely noticed my mom tell me she went to the bathroom. The thirty seconds of the song felt so much longer than they really were. It was strange. It was as if it was a short escape from reality. 

“Here comes the sun do do do do 

It's all right”

I let the song incapsulate me in its simplistic purity. It was so perfect. It was so freeing. The song made thoughts swirl in my head. But not like before. These thoughts weren't about sickness and death. These were about the sun, and the trees, and how far I had come despite everything. I don't remember how I ended up laying down on the carpet, or when I let tears escape my eyes, but I didn't care.

“Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces

Little darling, it feels like years since we've been here”

When my mom came out from the bathroom I was still on the floor. I had dried up my tears of joy even though I'm sure she could see the stains on my cheeks. She didn't mention it if she did. She didn't need to. That song threw me into a bubble of bliss for only two minutes. I was able to be happy for two minutes. That's all I needed. That feeling kept up. I hung on to it as long as I could. Through the game of pool I don't remember, through the rest of the trip, I try to keep it through the rest of my life. I guess this story is the little bit of feeling I try to always carry around with me, the feeling of the sun and the brisk mountain air.