I’m finally starting to accept what we have to do, in this time of pandemic. It’s taken me awhile to stop fighting it, at least internally, even with closures cascading around us. We even went out to eat Friday night, something I would not do today (we wanted to support our local restaurants, but from now on we’ll do take out). Every time I go to a crowded store, I wonder if I’m spreading it, or if it’s being spread to me. I’m sure all of us have been talking to friends and family across the country, and the stories seem similar everywhere. Most poignant, perhaps, was a story from a friend whose parents live in a nursing home, and he’s not allowed to visit them. It’s for the best, but it’s hard.
We needed rain desperately, and it finally arrived; we got over an inch of it yesterday. It’s looking cold and gloomy for the next week, which doesn’t help anyone’s mood, and makes it hard to be outdoors, which is our only escape right now. (I can’t imagine having to deal with old, dirty, muddy snow, like so many are having to do!) We had our trees pruned Friday and I had the tree company leave me the chippings, so each day I go out in the rain and move a couple dozen wheelbarrows-full around the yard. It keeps me away from screens and the news, which I realize I have to be disciplined about watching.
My sister-in-law Loretta sent me a poem that suggested that we treat this time as sacred, and I’ve been thinking upon that as I put in some hard graft in the garden. In fact, there is plenty of time of think these days. One thing I’ve realized is that my generation (Gen X) hasn’t really ever had to deal with scarcity before. I mean, scarcity as an economic circumstance certainly, but scarcity on this kind of scale is new to us. If we had the means, there’s never been anything stopping us from buying what we need. It’s a new feeling. I’ve said to Tom and the kids that whenever they find themselves in a store of any kind (grocery, hardware, drug) to always keep an eye out for certain things - mostly household paper goods, but also cleaning supplies. In a very small way it reminds me of all the World War II novels I’ve read where the heroine has to go stand in a line for rations and comes home with whatever is available. Of course this is not anywhere near that, I know (baked goods have been flowing from our kitchen as flour and sugar are still readily available, also another reason to hump mulch), but in a very tiny way I have a new understanding of what that kind of scarcity might look like.
I also see that in some ways, this forced family closeness is a blessing. Having two busy teenagers, one about to go off to college, has made it hard to spend time together; now we are together all the time! I’m reminded of when our kids were young, and their stuff was strewn all about the house instead of confined to their rooms. It’s cluttered, but it’s got its own kind of charm. They are having to work through their own feelings of uncertainty (will there be graduation? how to stay close to friends? how will they finish school on time? and will college even be in session in the fall?), and it promotes some good (though hard) conversations. Tom said that this time has reminded him a bit of when Adam had cancer - you just have to put blinders on and get though the day as best you can, and not look at the future too much. There is a sort of relief in that kind of living.
I also wonder how this time will factor in my kids’ personal history. Will this end up to be just a ‘blip,’ or will it be a significantly impacting event? Time will tell.
I’m always interested to hear how all of you are doing, so feel free to post a comment and we can have a conversation about all of this. We now have time for deep thought and contemplation. And time for silliness, too - we just set our TV to record all the old episodes of Mythbusters!
Stay healthy, my friends.