My sister sent a video of my two-year-old nephew this morning . “He all done quarantine,” he said, pointing to a stuffed elephant at his side. Aren’t we all? And yet the second week passed, a Groundhog Day playing out against the hum of Zoom meetings and video calls. We found ourselves with shrunken paychecks and non-existent social lives. Even on the nights I managed to sleep solidly for seven or eight hours, I woke up exhausted.
Still, the week started with an early spring flash of snow, and we stood wide-eyed in the backyard, delighted for a morning decorated white, even as new blooms peeked through. Daily a little more spring emerged, nature reminding us life perpetuates, even in this weirdly shaken state. Watching winter yield to season’s change, as it does, always, gives me hope that this great pause is our own yielding to life, to health.
That doesn’t mean I don’t fear for my livelihood, for the livelihoods of others. In a matter of days my employment reduced substantially. I would fear more, though, if this necessary slowdown wasn’t happening, because the trajectory of the virus indicates we had to stop. Just stop. Everyone, except for those whose lives sustain ours, to whom we are all indebted. So partial furlough it is. Both Ty and I are now working fewer hours, which means we’re doing puzzles and reading. A lot. We get outside every day. I try to stick to limits with the ever-present newsfeed. I’m still running miles. I take out my camera often. That practice became a daily tool when I was recovering from cancer treatment, and I’m finding that rhythm similarly soothing now. It makes me pay attention. In paying attention I find that each day holds room for gratitude and grief, for delight and depression, for anxiety and awe. Our menagerie, sensitive to whatever this change is, bring comfort and levity to this abnormal mundane moment. The vague unknowns are. Acceptance is all that can be done with the ever-curling question marks.
So, I’m doing my best to be present to each day as it comes, because like it or not, we’re not all done with quarantining yet (sorry Freddy and sorry your toddler self is well enough acquainted with that word to use it appropriately). My photos, like Freddy’s elephant, help me process, so I’m sharing them. Maybe they’ll help you too. How are you doing, friends? We’re all in this together, even as we are, for a time, apart.
