Like the rest of the world, the coronavirus pandemic has my family sheltering in place. Here’s my story. So far.
That’s how long I’ve been on lockdown. I’ve done some things and not done a lot of things.
I haven’t put gas in my car.
I’ve exercised pretty much every day. If this is the end of the world and a zombie apocalypse is next, I’m ready.
I’ve walked past the small businesses in my neighborhood with sadness and fear for their future.
From our expansive view, I’ve watched Los Angeles become amazingly clear. With no car or plane pollution, I can see things that I’ve never seen before.
I’ve cooked every day. For 30 days. Every. Single. Day.
I’ve eaten dinner with my family, at 6:00pm every day, for 30 days, downloading today’s school and work and current crisis – even though we’ve only been a few feet apart all day.
I’ve connected with friends on long overdue phone calls.
I’ve snuggled with my daughter and dog every morning, with no rush to get up and out the door.
Once a week I’ve gone to the grocery store, waited outside to get in, shopped frantically, stood six feet apart and obsessively wiped down the groceries at home. I’ve spent the rest of the day stressed and anxious.
I’ve hoarded almond milk. But not toilet paper.
I’ve paid black market rates for hand sanitizer.
I’ve cursed the terrible paper towels that easily fall apart, the only ones I could find.
I’ve groomed my own eyebrows.
But paid my daughter for a home facial, manicure and pedicure.
I haven’t worn make-up.
But I’ve worn diamond earrings everyday because why not.
Every weekday I’ve turned my bedroom into “school” because my daughter can’t get a wi-fi signal in hers. Every evening I clear away the books and papers and snacks and give her a shoulder massage to reverse the damage of too much screen time. And do it again the next day.
I’ve listened to 80’s pop while I write in my office to drown out my husband’s video chats in the living room.
I’ve watched movies, read four books and played video games. I’ve ordered Sonic the Hedgehog off eBay and can’t wait to play.
I made two scrapbooks for my daughter. Yes, she’s a senior in high school but I’ve been busy. I’m not so busy.
I’ve taken Good Friday communion at home with a tiny sake cup of red wine and an almond cracker.
I’ve cried and bargained and denied and grieved. And finally accepted this is what it is. For now.
In the midst of it all, I’ve remained thankful. To be with these kids and dog and husband in a warm house with food and wi-fi, healthy and safe, sheltered in place. And here I’ll stay.
P.S. Need something to pass the time? You can read more stories here.