May 9, 2020
Day 45 of Shelter in Place due to Coronavirus

Today is a spectacularly beautiful day. The air is crystal clear. Large, white, puffy clouds sail across a vibrant blue sky. Dogwoods have bloomed and the cherry blossoms are rushing to keep up while the wind billows through their leaves. I fear their petals will be found on the ground tomorrow, shortening what joy we get from the spring flowers. Especially now. I have always loved witnessing spring turn into summer but sitting on my couch day after day, I am particularly attentive and appreciative of the seasonal change. It brings light. It brings a smile. It brings hope. Much needed hope.

The island is coming alive too. There are more cars in the driveways. There are more people taking walks and riding their bikes. I am at once both delighted and fearful. I want so much to be able to hug a friend or go to a restaurant or simply walk along the docks without the worry of bumping into people. On the other hand, I feel it too soon. And so, I must be patient.

Ours is not a difficult task, really. We are just told to stay put. I’m not on the frontlines. Our family and friends are safe and healthy and relief dollars are finally showing up. And yet...sometimes I feel as if I am floating in air, with nowhere to go.

Jay has decided to paint the ceilings and closets which has forced me to do some much needed spring cleaning. I am more focused than ever at getting my book completed. We continue to take walks and I am back into my yoga routine. These are good things. Other things, not so much. Like my gray roots are demanding equal time to my bleached hair. Its strands are longer than I would like and are looking rather shabby. Jay is working on a man bun. I don’t dare take the scissors in my hands. It would not go well. Trust me.

I still have bad days. The other day, my daughter talked me up. She shared her optimism and encouraged me to not worry. “We will be okay.” She said. I felt much better when I got off the phone and pondered how roles have changed a bit. It used to always be me (the mom) talking her (the daughter) through bad times. Now it is she who comforts me. The cycle of life.

I keep waiting for some profound realization in the form of a life lesson. Maybe it is not going to come to me in some grand explosion but rather in small doses like watching the flower buds slowly open. And so, I sit on my couch and look outside as the island inches back to life, contemplating and dreaming of not so much what is to come, but what is right now.