As we now get closer to the two-month mark, I wish I could say things are stabilizing. We remain as lost and detached as ever. Floating in a void that is this new planet with all emotions living on the edges of our sleeves. Fraying and escalating at the slightest prompt. Simple commands like, "Eat your peas," cause an eruption like never before. News such as, "High winds and possible power outages," leaves me limp. I pull the blanket tighter and refuse to get out of bed until there are only minutes left before I need to make myself presentable to the Zoom world. These logs are starting to loop and repeat as do the days. Monotony is the new rhythmic norm.
Chief Mate shakes me from my spiral.
"Let's go outside!"
I don't hesitate.
Not for a second.
Chalk in hand, we draft tags.
Keep calm and chalk on.
It has officially been over a month of tumultuous emotion, ever-changing news, rapidly changing lifestyles. I feel sea sick. Everything comes and goes. Like a slow pulse. The morning bleeds into yesterday bleeds into last week bleeds into - are we still keeping count? These logs are my only way to know the days anymore. If it were a hundred years ago, I suppose I would have notches on the wall. Now I have notches on The Cloud.
The wind was angry today. I think it was trying to blow us out of our houses. If Aesop had taught him anything, the wind would know that a calming tactic is more persuasive. I watched the trees knock against themselves. I watched the sun shine and then quickly be replaced by rain pouring itself down in buckets only to be interrupted by the sun again. The weather could use some calming techniques. It left me feeling disjointed. Chief Mate helped anchor me back to reality.
He made up a game. It was called Quest. It involved detailed labels of care instructions pla…
The world needs color. We can't get by without it. Maybe some individuals can, but as a human race, certainly not. I was dipping down into the land of the low, and it was color that brought me back.
It's funny how the new norm now has its own new routine. The days still oscillate between wondrous, mundane, and sheer torture. At least the mundane days are growing in number and the space between wondrous and torture continues to get farther apart. Overall, things do seem to be getting more and more manageable.
The highs are incredible. Hiking with Chief Mate and Co-Captain Dad. Grilling with Admiral Grandma and Uncle Commodore. Finding time, if even for five minutes, to read a book of my choosing amidst the hundreds of assigned pages. Grad School Black Hole still looms large, but those five minutes of mine are everything. I've been riding the wave, trying not to complain when suddenly a wave smashed into me, knocking me out of the boat. Never turn your back on the sea. The …
A black beetle crawled out of the mound of food that collects because our dear cat can't keep it in his mouth. Moist, partially masticated food is the perfect place for such an insect. He didn't appreciate my sweeping. I named him Alexander. I watched him walk away into the void under our kitchen cabinet. Alone. Without food.
The hardest part in all of this is watching loved ones suffer and not being able to help. Sick family members are unable to eat homemade soup for fear of germs that may have been folded into the broth. A friend who desperately needs human contact is unable to answer the door to receive bear hugs. There is no more driving parents to the grocery store or to their routine visits to the doctor. Prescriptions for real life-threatening diseases are running out because idiots in charge are selling them as a false miracle cure. The list of can'ts goes on and on. But my intent is not to make anyone's situation harder than it already is.
So, here is a list …