Our Coronavirus Story Part Three
As the snow melted, we started daily neighbor walks and scooter rides. We noticed very few cars. More quiet. Fresh air feels so good. We are so lucky to have the ability to get outside without crossing paths with anyone. We chatted with a few neighbors from their porches. The little break from outside also makes us yearn for the little things now closed for us. Browsing thrift stores and used book stores. Visiting the library. Going to the grocery store. Those ordinary everyday adventures now feel decadent and remote.
We set up an outdoor staging zone for food from the school. And wore gloves. But there were so many little containers so we gave up on trying to sanitize everything. We had staged with a bunch of containers to transfer food into the house but gave up. So much organizing and planning that becomes quick decisions when reality arrives…
Everything happens so quickly, yet feels years long. We marvel at the span of time. One week. Can you believe it’s been one week?
And we’re exhausted. Deeply tired. While we wonder how we could be so tired when we’re “doing” so little. I mean, we have chores and activities like daily walks, but we’re also nowhere near the level of adventure that we enjoyed prior to this pandemic. Somehow the mental carrying of stress and anxiety saps our energy. Personally, I’m not sleeping well. It’s a seeping anxiety that I would like to escape. Yet, for my own safety, I feel like I need to be mindful of changing circumstances.
News changes so quickly. Mitigation strategies from yesterday ring hollow today. Ideas that seem appropriate yesterday (swing by the school to pick up homeschool paperwork) feel irrelevant today. Passing paper through car windows? Maybe not the best plan after all. Yet I cannot print every attachment… constant dilemmas.
I’m also deeply concerned that the emerging plan- that the economy can’t be held up indefinitely and people need to return to real life- is going to leave people like me in limbo even longer. Because my inability to take the same risks means that I have less freedom than my age group.
One day at a time. One decision at a time.
I wonder if the future can possibly know how absolutely tiring this time is for those of us living through it. The future will have far more clarity about transmission and severity and hospital capacity. From the affected age groups (now 20-50 year olds account for 10% of hospitalizations) to the potential transmission, everything is a question with answers that change daily (or hourly). Today’s massive mind-bend is that they found, in the Staterooms of The Diamond Princess Cruise Ship- the virus surviving on surfaces SEVENTEEN DAYS later. If it survives on surfaces for seventeen days…
I can’t even think about that right now. It’s so easy to spiral into doom and gloom scenarios. Deep breaths. Photography is good for helping me focus past the intensity. Because while the tired is TIRED and the stress is STRESS, the kids also have laughing wrestling matches and the sky is strewn with poetic white clouds and the birdsong is so light and clear without the background noise of traffic. Life is a mosaic. And we just do the best that we can with the time that we are given.
We started playing Dungeons and Dragons. We wear pajamas all day every day. And the snow melts. And spring blossoms bloom. And the cat naps.
Or, as a Twitter meme suggests, swap “my coworker” for the pet. So my coworker naps all day :)
Wishing you peace and healthful tomorrows :)
Statistic:
Passed 10,000 cases in the United States
