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| Pooh Bear and friends in our window for the children to see as they walk by |
Life during a pandemic--you know what it's like. You are living it.
Here is it Palm Sunday, which means it's been twenty years since my mother's passing, but I struggle to keep track of time.
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| a neighbor's Easter egg tree |
Social distancing has broken bonds we need more than ever.
I haven't seen my quilt friends for three weeks. One gifted member has suffered a stroke, another lost a grandchild. Snow Birds are unable to travel home from Florida and other states.
Our library book club was cancelled. We were to Skype with Angie Kim about her book
Miracle Creek this month. The spring book sale is cancelled. And the city community center's annual spring rummage sale. Both are major sources of funding.
We had tickets to two concerts for the Detroit Symphony--cancelled. All the arts community will be struggling with lost revenue.
It's been almost a month since I saw my fitness coach. She had a week off and then the fitness center closed. Doctor, dentist, and hair appointments were cancelled. My husband had to put off shoulder replacement surgery.
My entire family last gathered on February 2 to celebrate my husband's 70th birthday. The following day we dined with my husband's brother and sister-in-law.
March 12 we last saw our grandpuppies. A week ago, our son and his girl came by and talked to us from their car in the driveway while we stood on the front steps. He sends me pictures, instant messages, calls once a week.
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| Our grandpup Ellie with spring flowers |
Mid-March we made our last shopping trips. Two weeks ago, my husband did a curbside pickup for flour and yeast at Gordon's Foods. He buys in bulk as he bakes all our bread.
We walk the neighborhood for thirty minutes every morning around 8:30 am. It is still cold and we bundle in heavy coats, hats, scarfs. We rarely see another person at this time, or even cars on the road. This Sunday morning we looked down Main Street and there was not a car to be seen within a half mile either direction.
The rest of the day we stay home, in the house or in the yard. There is spring cleanup to do, the rain barrels to set up, bird baths and lawn furniture and a wind chime to put out.
We read. I write reviews. I play the piano and sew a bit. My masks are quite awful. I will try a new pattern.
We make soups for lunch. We make comfort foods for dinner.
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| Chicken noodles with dumplings |
We watch an hour or two of television in the evening. We found a British YA series that has no doctors or death in the stories. I spend too much time surfing social media, playing iPad puzzles and games.
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| part of our Imperfect Produce delivery |
Our son encouraged us to subscribe to Imperfect Produce last winter. Now we are grateful for weekly orders of fresh produce.
It took days to find an Instacart opening, but I got an order in for delivered groceries and supplies to come next week. Two weeks ago, my husband ordered toilet paper through Amazon; it is to come next week. I ordered new ink cartridges for my printer, and medicine I need, and the eye drops and mouthwash that help my Sjogren's syndrome symptoms, all to be delivered.
I ordered books. Nguyen Phan Que Mai was author host last week for the American Historical Novels Facebook page, talking about her first novel. She was such a lovely person and her story compelling. I ordered her novel
The Mountains Sing from Algonquin books.
And with it,
Emily Dickinson's Gardening Life by Marta McDowell, to be part of my reading on Dickinson.
The mail lady has only been working three hour days, delivering packages and the rare first class bill or letter. She told us she will use her time off and stay home for three weeks.
We have two police cars that patrol our two-mile square city. One stopped to talk, saying he was impressed by our determination to walk every day so early.
On our walks, when we see the trash and recycling and yard waste collectors we greet them and thank them, hope they stay safe.
Every few days we place a delivery order from one of our local independent restaurants. We don't need the food. We don't want to lose these businesses that make our downtown vibrant. Our favorite restaurant closed weeks ago and is not delivering. The owner, an immigrant, is a wonderful man and the restaurant was always filled to capacity. He recently remodeled; he told us his customers deserved an attractive environment.
The elementary school across the street has been closed for weeks. Even the marquee sign is now dark. The playground, like those in the parks and other schools, and the skate park and stadium and tennis courts and baseball diamonds, is closed. Usually we see children playing all day long and after hours and on weekend. Just before lockdown, the teachers had a parade through town to wave at their students, with the police and fire department escorting them.
Detroit has been hit hard by the virus and the hospitals are struggling. My brother's girlfriend, a nurse, was told to stay home for a week; she works in colonoscopy which is elective and tests have been canceled. The hospitals are losing money without tests and elective surgeries. Supplies are running out. Three Detroit nurses died of COVID-19 last week.
My brother is a Ford engineer and has worked from home for several weeks. He was told to take next week off. He and his girlfriend seek out hidden places to walk as the county and state parks are full of people.
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| An undisclosed Michigan Lake, photo by my brother |
Later in the day, after the temperatures rise, families are out walking or biking, couples walk their dogs, people jog. We watch out the window.
Children leave chalk messages on the sidewalks. Picture windows are filled with signs of support or have Teddy Bears or Christmas candle lights. Yard signs send messages of care.
The grass is green. The robins are back. The sparrows have claimed the bird house for their nesting site. We saw a bunny in the yard. The daffodils will soon bloom. Buds are on the flowering trees.
Spring with its new life and beauty will be a stark contrast to the news filled with human suffering.
In today's
Detroit Free Press, Mitch Albom shares his COVID-19 story. He writes,
"...if all we do is swim in those sad waters, we will lose sight of any shore. We will drift into people we don’t recognize, and do things we never thought we would do.
"Our humanity will be what saves us in this pandemic. Small acts. Like the people who leave toilet paper on their porches for delivery workers. Or the sewing machines now humming to stitch masks. Or the folks who serenade one another across apartment house balconies.
"One thing. Find it. The one positive. The one joy you’d forgotten about. The one part of the day that brings you peace. And cling to it..."
Read it at
https://www.freep.com/story/sports/columnists/mitch-albom/2020/04/05/coronavirus-covid-19-mitch-albom-michigan/2947780001/
Stay inside. Stay safe.
