I awoke to the conflicting news of a new daily death record, but indications that the hospitalization and infection rates looked like they were stalling. Some are claiming we’ve already passed the peak here, I hope that’s true. I don’t really know what that means though. In the beginning of all of this, I intellectually understood some things would never be the same. But I didn’t have the time to process it.
Now as we can see (hopefully) the end, I wonder what pieces will never be the same.
It’s been almost a month. A month, especially living in this city, feels like a lifetime. So much happens, so much evolves, so much changes. When we all eventually step out from our quarantined hiding, will we still recognize one another?
I had to pick up a prescription today. Between the pharmacist and I was a freshly erected plexiglass screen, and a table pushed against the counter to keep me six feet away. As I stretched over to take the prescription, she made a joke and I smiled. It got awkward for a second, until I remembered I had a face mask on and she couldn’t see my smile. She must have thought she offended me, so I chuckled and told her she couldn’t see my smile under the mask.
An interaction as ridiculous as it is appropriate for these times we’re living.
The city holds its breath tonight. Will we have another day of declining rates? Have we made it through the peak? What now? When can we start getting back to normal?
When I saw the press conferences, their faces brandished the same non-answer they had at the beginning.
We’ve consistently reacted to the limited data we have, and never considered the majority of data we don’t. They abdicated their decisioning to models, models that look like they turned out to be really wrong. What will they abdicate their decisioning to now? Emotions, ego, partisanship…or reason.
Five years ago being trapped alone in my apartment for this long would have been a very different story, and definitely a roller coaster (more like a class 5 rapids).
Based on the past, this should have been a roller coaster so far. For me, the starkest aspect of this is that it hasn’t. The second week was hard, really hard, as the resignation set in that this was the new reality for the foreseeable future. But after that, I stayed on my routine, exercised and meditated, and focused on being all there for the moments that were – no matter how small they were.
Listening to Gizmo’s paws clack against the sidewalk during the numerous additional walks I get to give him a day. Walking down the empty streets of this city I so dearly love with my camera. Writing again, frequently, on my blog. More than a few old friends who called to check how I was doing here. Face-timing with my family (especially my adorable niece and nephew). Even something as small as laying in my hammock on this 65 degree day.
I couldn’t help from getting angry whenever I watched the news, so I stopped.
Even amidst this lockdown, the virus, the uncertainty – there’s still plenty of beauty. We just have to choose to pay attention to it.