In the Thick of Things

We've been at this quarantine thing for seven weeks now. Friends and family in our state have been quarantined for five weeks.  Not that we're counting. Government officials are trying to figure out a plan to re-open ... well, the entire country.

My daughter is a high school senior in Virginia. She already knows that she won't be returning to school. Maybe commencement will happen, but it certainly won't happen as we envisioned it. While Saturday, June 13, has been sacrosanct in my planning for several years as "Graduation Day," it now seems like any other day. For years, there was no doubt in my mind where I would be on that Saturday. Now there is considerable uncertainty.

I think most of us have moved from the feeling that we can do this for the good of the country to recognizing that this isn't easy.  In fact, this is really fricking hard.  There is sadness, fear, doubt, and -- let's face it -- boredom.  The economic implications are staggering, and not surprisingly, the folks who could most use the assistance from the federal government aren't getting it.  The $350 billion targeted for small businesses has already been exhausted, and there are plenty of people (and many friends) who have gotten no assistance.

New TARDIS?

Ours is a family of doers, and there's plenty to do. Our house is pretty dang tidy now. We've waded through the copious amounts of linens that resulted from combining households and pared those down to the bare essentials -- for a family of six.  Our baseboard radiators are dust free, and we've even constructed a few new covers. Our solarium garden is well on its way, complete with a new dwarf lemon tree and some Centennial hops.  Our new cherry tree weathered the recent frigid temperatures with the help of a blue blanket that made it look remarkably like the next generation T.A.R.D.I.S.

A couple of weekends ago, I found myself sweeping off boulders. It seemed like a perfectly sane thing to do until the 3-year-old next door looked at me quizzically. Of course, he was running around with a kid-sized sword AND a broom, and that made perfect sense. He is three, after all.

We have been usurped in our spring
cleaning. This is not our pile.

My daughter has shared photos of her massive cleaning project -- scrubbing decks Cinderella-style.  It's pretty impressive actually.  My brother has taken to using toothpicks to clean the deepest nooks and crannies of his family's kitchen. As I walk through Durango's residential areas, I know we're not alone in our cleaning projects as neighbors pile the detritus of their projects into the streets for our City's annual clean-up.

Before Chris and I left for Italy, I facilitated the merger of my organization with another local organization, effectively merging myself out of a job -- and unknowingly, giving my full-time staff the best shot at enduring this new world.  Now I find myself without a day-to-day purpose.  Chris and I had big plans to travel this year. This was the goal: step away from the day-to-day management so that we could travel together. Over the next two months we had 4 regional trips planned, followed by the trek to the East Coast for Brenna's graduation -- all cancelled.

The "Plague Mobile' remains parked for now. 

Chris and I kept hope alive that we could slip away to the lonely places of Utah.  There's a lot of space out there and not a lot of people.  We would keep to ourselves, fully self-sufficient in the Plague Mobile -- aka "the Mother Ship."  But the hammer fell a couple of weeks ago.  The health department overseeing the region we had our sights on issued closures, and then, Governor Herbert announced that anyone entering Utah must fill out a self-declaration form --  a first for states, I think. It was rescinded on April 13, apparently.

Meanwhile, we've adapted to life at home.  Honestly, we could be much worse off.  Durango has so many trails to explore, and as of April 15, the seasonal wildlife closures ended, so we have access to even more of our favorite places. We have plenty of recreational opportunities available to us from our front door.

Not a bad place to be stuck.

We have it easy. We know how hard it is for so many.  Without Chris, I know my current situation would be dramatically different.  However, the fact remains that COVID-19 has shifted what is normal for the entire globe.  Not one person is immune to its effects, and we are all faced with what that means for each of us as well as collectively.  There is increasing agitation to return to "normal."
 Not surprisingly, many of Trump's supporters think this whole experience has been overblown, giving yet more evidence to the extreme chasm among Americans these days. This is what gives me greatest cause for fear.

For now, though, all we can do is navigate our days knowing that we will have highs and we will have lows.  We will feel hopeful and then, hopeless.  But there is no circumventing this process and so we dig deep to make it one day at a time.

Hang in there, dear friends.