For the last two weeks an empty carton waits on the floor by my office closet, ready for me to fill it with stuff I no longer need. But closet cleaning isn’t high on my agenda these days.
During these strange days of social isolation, as we attempt to flatten the coronavirus’s exponential growth, I need to talk with family and friends. I need to see their faces. Zooming and Facetime are essential to my well-being. Yesterday an online “visit” with my grown children, their spouses, and my two grandbabies took place in three time zones.
The Internet is my friend. I’ve participated in yoga and Pilates classes with teachers from my closed Tucson gym. Today I watched a lovely performance of “Stand By Me” on the rocks surrounding Lake Powell (I’ve never been and now want to go). Walking through our neighborhood is essential, checking out the latest wildflowers popping up daily.
I haven’t felt much like writing lately. Reading sparks the highlight of each day: “Sapiens. A Brief History of Humankind” enlivens my thinking in the late afternoon, along with a snack of Trader Joe’s olive oil popcorn; the novels “Disappearing Earth” and “Lillian Boxfish Takes a Walk” transport me to the Russian Kamchatka Peninsula and New York City, respectively, in the evening.
We’ve stored plenty of food but a big diversion from our own cooking will be to order from Tito & Pep’s one night this week. Last night, we discovered a gem on Netflix: “Midnight Diner: Tokyo Stories.” A tiny diner tucked into the gigantic city is open from midnight to 7 a.m. An array of fascinating, quirky, believable characters show up.
I miss experiencing life with my grandchildren, also anticipating travel. We planned a trip to Washington’s Olympic Peninsula in late May. Most likely not going to happen.
Every day it becomes more obvious that we’re all in this nasty pandemic together, and that we each have a responsibility to ourselves and to others to stay healthy. Let’s do it.
“Hearts open. Hands washed. Love on.” — Brene Brown