The stories we tell ourselves

Family yoga this morning. Apparently, the dog needs his own mat.

Quarantine Week 2: Vol. 1

Yesterday, while lost down a hole on my iPhone, I saw a post by someone I'm friends with on Facebook (Instagram?) about how people need to stop making light of the pandemic with all the memes and photos of Quarantinis and the like. People are dying, she pointed out, and going broke and this isn't a time for crying about our emerging gray roots and the Pandemic 15 (ie: how much weight we're all going to gain before this is over).

Of course, this cornoavirus has shut the world economy down and according to Andrew Cuomo, we're only beginning to see the toll it will take on patients and healthcare workers. I've heard stories of people my age who've assumed they had it and struggled with headaches and slight fevers. And then others who were mowed down by the virus and really sick. It makes me nervous.

But I still can't help but see some silver linings brought on by being quarantined for an unknown period of time. 

I live in a neighborhood lined by sidewalks and usually only see people walking by with their dogs, and usually, it's the same pet owners, day after day. Now that we're all asked to stay home, I've never seen so many people out and about, and who knew so many little kids lived in the neighborhood? They're zipping by on bikes and scooters. I see folks going around the block en famille on bike and on foot, parading by with dogs and strollers. 

All this outdoorsiness is not confined just to my neighborhood. I've been traipsing around the wooded trails of one of our county parks for the last decade with a dog -- and usually a friend or kid -- by my side. But I have NEVER seen the parking lots as full as they have been over the last few weeks. I've been sticking to a wider main trail, which allows for proper social distancing from oncoming hikers, but I've been amazed by all the people getting out in nature now that there's a pandemic afoot. 

But I find myself following suit. One day last week, instead of hopping in the car for the 2 second trip to the Acme to pick up stuff for dinner, my son and I decided to walk instead. It was cold and gloomy out, but it felt good to get some fresh air after being cooped up inside all day.

Yesterday, my teenager came into my office to chat, and I don't remember what prompted him to observe that he thought the pandemic was good for families.

"How do you think we're doing?" I asked.

"Surprisingly well," he said. "I thought for sure someone would have killed somebody by now."

I relayed this to his older sister later, and she nodded her head in agreement. "He's not wrong," she said.

The kids and I have certainly spent time with each other over the years, but it hasn't always been smooth sailing. We even had a hard time getting along in Tuscany, with an especially famous blowout over pizza in Florence. Somehow we are managing to keep our shit together trapped in my house in New Jersey.

I don't think we're alone. Although I know pretty much everything on Instagram is BALONEY, there seems to be a sense that families are making the most of staying at home. I see people playing ping pong and beer pong with their families, making dinners and taking their dogs to walk on the beach. I even just saw one Instagram friend's three little kids with a bucket of soapy water, cleaning the kitchen (well played, mom).

One of the other phenomenons is the urge to connect with, like, everyone you know on Zoom. To date, I have two standing "happy hours" with friends and a daily phone call check in with my dad who keeps me up to date on his labradoodle's morning bowel movements and what he will eat for dinner later that day. But the daily phone call has become a nice part of my new daily routine.

Last night, my group of college friends connected over Zoom for a virtual happy hour and got caught up on whose kids were home and how often we were all showering. Even though the eight of us usually get together once a year, up until the pandemic, we didn't really connect that often as a group. We tend to connect separately with some more than others, based on our histories -- like who was roommates with whom before and after our four years together in college. 

Maybe the panacea for quarantines is connection, because even the more reclusive of our gang called in for our virtual gathering. It was fun to get a glimpse into everybody's life, the ones we only hear about when we're away together and sitting around drinking coffees and eating Swiss Fondues (a UD classic). We got to see husbands wandering in to wave hello or hand a wife a drink. Kids came in to provide technical support. We even got to see all the dogs. By the end of the hour, after many of us could sense our families wishing we'd get off the call and get on with dinner, we'd decided our virtual gathering should become a weekly event. 

Over the years, Jennifer my therapist has tried to remind me that it is through pain and suffering that we grow. She has many wonderful gifts but I'm always amazed as how Jen can pull a poem out of a hat for any occasion. It's remarkable, really. 

One of her favorite poets is Rumi, the 13th century scholar, and she has offered his poem The Guest House to me many times as I've lamented things that have not gone my way. I think it applies to this situation as well, and begins: "This being human is a guest house.Every morning a new arrival."

The poem continues:

"A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight."

Connection. Presence. Shared experience. These, for me, are so far the gifts of the pandemic. The inevitable silver lining that comes with all the storms of life.

One of my kids did break our quarantine rules (memorialized in a Google Doc and updated weekly) and pooped in the downstairs bathroom at an designated time, making me rethink all the fuzzy feeling I've been having and wanting to violently sweep something instead.

But that's the yin and the yang of all this proximity. I'm just trying to find balance and lean as far as I can to the good side. I think we all are right now.
 

xoAmy

Younger daughter reported this puzzle broke her spirit. "If I never get married, it's because of this puzzle," she yelled on Saturday afternoon after working on it for hours. Am pleased to report that no puzzle pieces were eaten during its construction.