I haven’t wanted to write.
What is there to say, really? Nothing seems terribly insightful, relevant or new. It’s all being said on the news, social media, in conversation and text: this is a strange, scary time and I can’t wait for it to be over.
And yet there’s so much to unearth, isn’t there.
The fears. Oh, the fears. Mine have somewhat, thankfully, abated. The virus came swiftly to New York and Andrew got sick the first week we were at home. It was terrifying. We didn’t know so much back then (‘back then’!! A whole month ago. But that’s one of the surreal elements of all this – time being both in slow-motion and fast forwarding and all days feeling interchangeable) and every day was a new learning curve. We couldn’t get him tested so he quarantined in the bedroom. For 11 days/night, I slept on the couch, limited my and Parker’s exposure to him, scoured the apartment with Pine-Sol that made my chest hurt (lord knows there haven’t been wipes in the city), washed my hands raw, and cried. And we got through it. It was so sweet watching Parker pour her love into him when he ‘officially’ came out of quarantine and so good to be a family of three again. Now I’m not as scared about contracting the virus. I don’t feel so haunted. But it’s critical that we still remain hyper vigilant, so we are every day.
The reliance on people and connection. It’s been wonderful being in touch with so many people. Doing the good old Zoom happy hour – with family, college roommates, high school besties. The 7pm cheering for our health care workers – a brief interlude when we get to wave to our neighbors and hoot and holler and let some of our angst and joy out and to shout “thank you” into the ether. There have been so many kind acts and gestures – neighbors who checked in on and shopped for us when Andrew was sick; thoughtful texts and notes; patience from and for others.
The joy. There is still joy, I’m finding. Recognizing how much I love my home and family. Appreciating the rare moments to sit and read. Coffee, chocolate and wine are my daily touchpoints. I also keep thinking about being on maternity leave 5.5 years ago. It pained me to think that I would never have that much dedicated one-on-one time with my girl ever again. And yet here we are. From 7am to 8pm, Parker is pretty much by my side. It’s too much sometimes, admittedly. Frustrating, stressful, physically exhausting. But it’s mostly a joy because she is a joy. It’s amazing watch her change week to week, and I feel like I’m literally witnessing her grow up. The physical changes, and also her evolving personality. She is funny, thoughtful, determined, playful, devoted. She is more and more beautiful by the day. And, hey, I’m now helping her read, write and figure out math. It’s pretty awesome.
The feelings of helplessness. What can we do? There is so much pain, alienation and turmoil surrounding us, constantly bombarding us. There is no end and no respite. And we’re just supposed to just sit at home? But really, that is the answer. I’m also trying to do little things that help others and make myself feel useful. I’ve been buying e-cards and making online purchases from my favorite bookstores, cafes, restaurants and boutiques. I tip generously and invited my neighbors to chip in to give to our super who’s busting his ass on our behalves. I check in on neighbors. I wish I could be out actually volunteering with food prep and delivery, or even working with Little Essentials, where I normally volunteer, but I do feel my priority needs to be with Andrew and Parker right now.
The anger and frustration and sadness. What a mess. In Brooklyn, we hear sirens all the time. IT feels like 9/11 unfolding bit by bit. Could any of this have been avoided? And where does everyone go from here? The mental health and economic ripple effects to come are terrifying. I’m not sure how, but I think it’s important to process and acknowledge all these feelings. As R.O. Kwon beautifully put it in today’s paper… to grieve.
The mystery of the future. I dare say with a month under our belt, I can do this for another month. And I’m not filled entirely with dread. This life has gotten strangely normal. Not good, but bearable. I can only hope it won’t be too long before I can stop and chit chat with neighbors, explore the city, to sit in a bakery with a sweet, hop on the train, enjoying the prospect of seeing a friend or family member at the end of the ride. It’s cliché to say we took so many things for granted and yet… here we are.
Stay safe, be well, stay home.
