April 1, 2020

As I sat myself down to write this essay, I tried to think back to when it was this particular “change” in our lives began. I looked back through my essays and understood what I’d kind of known. It had been happening around us more or less by the end of February. I wasn’t as aware of that, of course, because the last day of February was the day my brother died.

My sense of things is understandably skewed because of that major loss.

I do recall that by the tenth day following the visitation we held for him, I was grocery shopping wearing rubber gloves and shaking my head in disbelief at the great toilet-paper hoarding—an event I believe deserves some sort of memorialization when this is all behind us (sorry about the lame pun). Or maybe not since in some places that seems to be an ongoing situation. For all we know it could be a new fad.

For those who may be wondering, our TP roll count currently stands at 76 double rolls.

I think for purposes going forward, I will consider day one the day I understood that a change had happened and actively made plans to try to cope—that shopping day, Saturday March 14.

That would make today, April 1, day 18. Do you think counting the days will make it go by faster, or slower? I personally don’t know if it makes a difference. 

How are you doing? Are you the busy sort so that staying close to home is a real challenge for you? If you’re home with kids, I can only imagine how restricting it must be for you. If you live in a home with a yard, that’s a bonus. You can send them outside for “recess” and take a few minutes to catch your breath. If you’re apartment bound, you have my prayers and my sympathies. Not that I don’t love children, because I do. But I am realistic when it comes to the effect of them on one’s nerves.

I guess this is just one of those times where you have to decide to get by. I’ve decided to get by and to feel grateful.

For the most part, we’re doing just fine. David and I had become hermit-like these last several months, regardless. That has been particularly true in the winter, because my mobility in the snow and ice dominated months is severely hampered by those two elements. I have my routines, and especially over these last few years, as my level of mobility has changed, my routine (in habit, if not substance) has been a Godsend.

So staying home, having limited physical social contact with others, that’s more or less how I roll. I haven’t been one to take my scooter out around the neighborhood the way my husband has. Last spring, he used it to take our Mr. Tuffy to the park daily, and in that routine of theirs they encountered several folks along the way. He hasn’t yet gotten into that habit again. He has begun walking the puppies. We finally found a harness to fit Bear. It’s a kitten harness, because yes, he’s that tiny. Missy looks to be almost as big, at 18 weeks, as her daddy was fully grown. Her harness is just a size “x-small”. Both puppies are walking well, so far. Now, the last few days have been rainy and on top of that, the lower back muscle that every once in a while, likes to act up to give David grief has been doing so this last week.

He’s hoping that since the next few days are supposed to be nicer and his back pain is easing off, he’ll get them both out on the “trail” again. His plan is to graduate them both from leash to scooter basket before the summer is out.

For my part, I may begin to take a turn around the neighborhood myself. I’ll likely use his scooter to do so. My scooter is in the trunk of my car. It’s not as easy for me to put together myself. I could ride his, which is assembled and in the back yard, while he naps. We’ll see.

Here’s what I believe about our current circumstances: you have to choose to get through this. It’s going to be hard. There’s going to be boredom and despair, and moments when you want to scream. That’s okay. Maybe you can have a family nightly “scream” as a regular activity. Just one long scream, at the top of your lungs, to get rid of the frustration. Some people are taking a minute or two at 7 pm to step outside, or onto their balconies, to clap—applause for the many health-care professionals who are our troops on the front lines of this war.

As military troops tire of the constant barrage of missiles and gunfire, so our medical troops tire of the constant barrage of sick people. This is a hard, horrendous battle for them. Compared to that, really, what are a few weeks or even months, within the safety of your own sanctuary? How much worse would this be for all of us if we were stuck away from our nests?

We’re all in this together. And we will get through this, one day at a time, together.

Love,
Morgan
http://www.morganashbury.com
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury