My father-in-law is 88 and my son is without a car (or a license!) at 25. Today Himself and I put on our gloves and masks and shopped for both of them. I pushed one cart and pulled the other. Himself did the shopping for us, so he only had one. It took all the courage I had to walk through the doors of the store. I want this to be the last big shop for weeks. We felt as though we were landing on the moon. The next few weeks are supposed to be the peak of the virus, which is spreading faster than anything we have ever seen. I want to be able to stay safe inside. If even inside is safe.
The shortages aren't as bad as they have been for many things, although disinfectant wipes and sprays, toilet paper and paper towels might as well be fairy tales from a simpler time. But there was meat and bread and pasta and cookies. I wish we'd stopped for cookies. There isn't the selection we are used to, and for many things we had to be more flexible than we usually are. At least it's done, and we are very lucky, because we will eat well for the next two to three weeks. The third week might be beans and rice every night, but I'm not fussy.
Somewhere in aisle three I began to panic. It wasn't a full-blown anxiety attack, but it was enough to make me feel disoriented and not a little dizzy. My nitrile gloves gripped the handle of the cart. Like everyone else, the weirdness of the last few weeks and the thought of the weeks to come are shaking me. The whole world has changed in a wink and it's going to take some adjusting to the new one.
On the bright side I'm getting better at the computer, especially at Zoom. If that's what I have to do to see the faces of family and friends, then I will learn how to master it. My Christmas tree is still up and still lit (and still baffling my neighbors, I'm sure). Son Number One's teddy bear, along with a few other stuffed animals and dolls, are still in my front windows so the little kids on the block can go hunting for them on their walks with their parents. I am trying to put on a happy face. We have to be positive in spite of the newscasts. We have to be hopeful in spite of the betrayal by the president in leaving us unprepared. We have to be grateful because of the amazing people who are out there in the front lines, risking their lives to keep us safe (if confused and annoyed) in our homes. For the nurses and doctors, the cashiers and mail carriers, the small business owners and the teachers we have to be so very, very grateful.
The shortages aren't as bad as they have been for many things, although disinfectant wipes and sprays, toilet paper and paper towels might as well be fairy tales from a simpler time. But there was meat and bread and pasta and cookies. I wish we'd stopped for cookies. There isn't the selection we are used to, and for many things we had to be more flexible than we usually are. At least it's done, and we are very lucky, because we will eat well for the next two to three weeks. The third week might be beans and rice every night, but I'm not fussy.
Somewhere in aisle three I began to panic. It wasn't a full-blown anxiety attack, but it was enough to make me feel disoriented and not a little dizzy. My nitrile gloves gripped the handle of the cart. Like everyone else, the weirdness of the last few weeks and the thought of the weeks to come are shaking me. The whole world has changed in a wink and it's going to take some adjusting to the new one.
On the bright side I'm getting better at the computer, especially at Zoom. If that's what I have to do to see the faces of family and friends, then I will learn how to master it. My Christmas tree is still up and still lit (and still baffling my neighbors, I'm sure). Son Number One's teddy bear, along with a few other stuffed animals and dolls, are still in my front windows so the little kids on the block can go hunting for them on their walks with their parents. I am trying to put on a happy face. We have to be positive in spite of the newscasts. We have to be hopeful in spite of the betrayal by the president in leaving us unprepared. We have to be grateful because of the amazing people who are out there in the front lines, risking their lives to keep us safe (if confused and annoyed) in our homes. For the nurses and doctors, the cashiers and mail carriers, the small business owners and the teachers we have to be so very, very grateful.
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