Longing for closeness in a period of "a safe distance".
These are scary times. When the news of the Corona Virus in China first broke, I would listen absent-mindedly to NPR as I ironed my clothes for the day. I felt bad for them, but I wasn't afraid. It never occurred to me that this would become our problem, too.
Last week we were told we would be working remotely "as a test of our preparedness". No big deal. One day. Then we got an e-mail saying it would be the next day, too. And now we enter the first full week of working from home (those lucky enough to be able to do that) and there is no real end in sight. We are told to keep at least six feet away from anyone with whom we do not live. That's a very hard thing to do, especially for a "hugger" like me. The stores and restaurants are closed. The Catholic Church is not offering public Mass until further notice. People are panicking and stripping bare the shelves of grocery stores, but instead of the "milk and bread" frenzy so familiar to those of us who regularly weather snow storms, it is now a rush on "toilet paper and hand sanitizer".
Luckily, my husband is working from home, too, so at least I have company. He works upstairs on his computer and I work downstairs in the living room on mine. Occasionally we break for a cup of tea and once a day we take a walk together. He still does his 7 mile run (on his own). We speak to our children every day, but it's on the telephone or by video call when we're lucky. They're bored and invulnerable. They are worried about their "elderly parents" (I guess that's us, although it doesn't feel like it). Meanwhile my father-in-law is 88 and it took all the courage I had to invite him to share a shepherds' pie with us last Sunday. I don't know if I was more afraid that I would infect him or he would infect us. The trip we had planned to bring him to his father's birthplace in Ireland has been indefinitely postponed.
Today, for the first time in a week, we went to a store. I needed blood pressure medication. And cookies. And a couple of bars of really decent chocolate as long as we were there. We are planning a quick run to the supermarket tomorrow. We will divide the list in two and attack like Ninjas, quick in, quick out. I assume that the earlier in the progression of this disease we go, the fewer infected people we might encounter. That's the theory anyway.
So for the next little bit at least, we will cross the street when we see our neighbors walking our way. We will bow our heads to nod hello and maybe give a wave. But we have become afraid of each other. Not everyone is taking this as seriously as they should. Saint Patrick's Day was proof positive of that, not to mention spring break photos from Florida. Not our kids. Others'.
I'm not sleeping well, and in spite of a faith which has always been rock solid, I have to remind myself constantly that we're not alone in this; that He hasn't forgotten us. I lie awake some nights thinking that someone I know will be snatched from my life by this disease in the not too distant future. I lie awake wondering who it will be.
Last week we were told we would be working remotely "as a test of our preparedness". No big deal. One day. Then we got an e-mail saying it would be the next day, too. And now we enter the first full week of working from home (those lucky enough to be able to do that) and there is no real end in sight. We are told to keep at least six feet away from anyone with whom we do not live. That's a very hard thing to do, especially for a "hugger" like me. The stores and restaurants are closed. The Catholic Church is not offering public Mass until further notice. People are panicking and stripping bare the shelves of grocery stores, but instead of the "milk and bread" frenzy so familiar to those of us who regularly weather snow storms, it is now a rush on "toilet paper and hand sanitizer".
Luckily, my husband is working from home, too, so at least I have company. He works upstairs on his computer and I work downstairs in the living room on mine. Occasionally we break for a cup of tea and once a day we take a walk together. He still does his 7 mile run (on his own). We speak to our children every day, but it's on the telephone or by video call when we're lucky. They're bored and invulnerable. They are worried about their "elderly parents" (I guess that's us, although it doesn't feel like it). Meanwhile my father-in-law is 88 and it took all the courage I had to invite him to share a shepherds' pie with us last Sunday. I don't know if I was more afraid that I would infect him or he would infect us. The trip we had planned to bring him to his father's birthplace in Ireland has been indefinitely postponed.
Today, for the first time in a week, we went to a store. I needed blood pressure medication. And cookies. And a couple of bars of really decent chocolate as long as we were there. We are planning a quick run to the supermarket tomorrow. We will divide the list in two and attack like Ninjas, quick in, quick out. I assume that the earlier in the progression of this disease we go, the fewer infected people we might encounter. That's the theory anyway.
So for the next little bit at least, we will cross the street when we see our neighbors walking our way. We will bow our heads to nod hello and maybe give a wave. But we have become afraid of each other. Not everyone is taking this as seriously as they should. Saint Patrick's Day was proof positive of that, not to mention spring break photos from Florida. Not our kids. Others'.
I'm not sleeping well, and in spite of a faith which has always been rock solid, I have to remind myself constantly that we're not alone in this; that He hasn't forgotten us. I lie awake some nights thinking that someone I know will be snatched from my life by this disease in the not too distant future. I lie awake wondering who it will be.
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