The Positive Place: Three weeks into Quarantine
Thirty-two days into the pandemic, and I’m homesick for my frothy macchiato coffee latte. For my favorite barista — a pierced, tattooed young man with a military haircut, and the build of a Navy Seal. For movies at my preferred theater in Livermore and how I would slump down in my seat with my buttered popcorn and a glass of Riva Ranch. I flick channels on the T.V. remote to get a glimpse of other people’s worlds to soothe my own. The over walked dog twitches next to me on the well-worn burnt orange sofa.
Last week, the adrenaline kept me going but now the harsh reality sets in. The last package of ground chicken is defrosting on the kitchen counter downstairs. We will need haircuts. Netflix is not coming on. Oh God, I think. I’m trapped in this house without a means to watch the last episode of ‘Tiger King.’ My frantic gaze falls on the 2020 wall calendar with the events of April still not crossed out — the violin recital for my nephew, the parent-teacher meeting at my daughter’s school, my cousin’s wedding in Cabo, Mexico.
The T.V. springs to life with a “bomp, bomp, ba-bomp.” The newscaster is interviewing a fifty-year-old woman whose husband is afflicted with coronavirus. “People are having hard discussions with their families about who takes care of my kids when I’m gone,” finishes the interviewer in a mournful voice. That’s it. I exhale deeply. I switch off the news.
To be startled by positivity: this is the task, I’ve assigned myself when so much fear and ugliness crowds our head space. I make a mental list of the things that keep me upbeat in a constantly tilting world
— Spring: Everywhere I turn, the beauty of fresh tender life overwhelms my senses and fills my heart with joy. I go for a walk after breakfast. It’s spring, and all the plants are behaving. The tiniest wildflower grows out of a crack in the pavement. Cherry blossoms fall at my feet, and bluebirds perched on branches greet me with a crescendo of bird song. I imagine the earth breathing again during this hiatus from global emissions — already there are reports that the carbon imprint of the earth has improved. Its an opportunity to take note and accelerate the fight against climate change.
— Kids at Home: After years of being an empty-nester, my kids have come home to roost. They fill my house with loud voices, tangled sheets and unmade beds, finicky appetites and endless opinions, and the tinkling of wine glasses as we sit down to a family meal at the dinner table every night. Some nights we play board games (Scattergories or Code Names.) And, some nights we slobber spaghetti and slurp down the newest offering from Livermore Vineyards (that continue to deliver shelter-in-place specials) while watching our latest obsession on T.V., ‘Love Island’.
— Sense of Community: Twice last week I picked up N19 masks from neighbors I’ve never met before. Neighbors who procured the masks from China, when the idiot who governs us can’t, and wanted to share the bounty with complete strangers. I am proud of my fellow Americans today. My WhatsApp Messenger pings constantly with tips from my ethnic community on how to teach kids Spanish during the lockdown, on where to find hand sanitizer or make my own, and how to beat the stay-at-home blues. Thanks to my online connections on LinkedIn, FB, Instagram, and Twitter, I have never before been more informed about current events in every far-flung province in the world or how to stay healthy and build my immunity.
— The Great Equalizer: To understand that all people — young, old, poor, rich, Christian or Muslim are equal and not outside the reach of a deadly virus. Too many wasted breaths on shouting words of hate, on creating artificial borders, on fighting wars for a shifting cause fueled by other people’s bad decisions. To realize how short life is, how useless the fights over toilet paper are when there are needy people — the poor, the sick, the old, and the infirm who need our help.
— We’re Still Breathing: With wistfulness, I remember how casually we accepted the human connection of a handshake with a stranger. Will we ever return to a peck on an unmasked cheek by a loving friend or sitting so close to a stranger in a crowded stadium that we can touch them? My dog, Sheru finished with his jaunts in the backyard hunting for errant squirrels’ bumps his head against my leg, and aims deep brown eyes up at me with a quiet plea to say, “Well, yes, and where are my belly rubs?” I’m buoyant with hope. All is not yet lost. I can still relax into the sensual sensation of a loving touch.
COVID-19 has been my teacher for the last three weeks and let it be yours too. And, now back to the kitchen sink and washing my hands for the 150th time.
