Photography by Lori K. Tate
Take as many deep breaths as you want. I’m trying to see every Wink possible right now, but it’s hard not to feel like we’re in a low budget, sci-fi movie. Yesterday, I had to go to the grocery store, and I was beyond thankful just to be in my car listening to music. I so wanted things to be the way they used to be, but as I began talking to a friend in the produce section (standing 20 feet apart), it was painfully obvious that we’re far from normal.
When I started this blog more than a year ago, I had no idea my mother would pass away so soon, and I certainly didn’t know that I would become an IT professional/Little House of the Prairie teacher due to a pandemic. For someone who battles anxiety on a daily basis, these events are like the NBA All-Star Game of worry and unease. I’m happy to say that I’m keeping it together, but I have my moments, and I think it’s so important that we talk about these moments.
I’ve been on social media way too much during the past week, and it’s wearing me down. I understand that we all have opinions to share and that right now social media is the best way of sharing them, but I also think we’re not sharing all that’s important in this. I’ve seen too few posts on people sharing what they’re really feeling. I understand the anger at politicians and fellow citizens who aren’t abiding by the rules, but I wish we felt comfortable enough with each other to share our deepest fears. That said, here goes.
I’m scared, really scared. I’m scared for my children, and I’m scared for my 83-year-old dad, as well as my in-laws. I’m scared for my friends who have cancer or any other kind of ailment that makes them more vulnerable to this virus. And I’m scared of how long it’s going to take us to get back to how we were when hand sanitizer was readily available. Will the normal that we loved still be there?
I’ve only had one big cry so far (more to come, I’m sure), and that was when I sat on our patio to listen to our church’s Sunday sermon. In that moment, all the changes crystallized for me. I wanted to be in church. I wanted to see my friends. I wanted to go get breakfast after, and most of all I wanted my mom.
When 9/11 happened, I saw an interview with Laura Bush. The reporter asked her what she did when she heard the news about the towers. She answered that she called her daughters and then she called her mother. She didn’t call her mother to check in on her, she called her because she needed her mom.
Sunday morning as I listened to the birds chirp, oblivious to the coronavirus and the six-feet apart mandate, I wanted to talk to my mother more than anything. Before Alzheimer’s (and even some during it) I could talk to her about current events. My mother wasn’t a touchy feely kind of person. She had a hard upbringing that sealed her from sweating the small stuff, but as someone who read the paper from cover to cover every single day, she always knew what was going on. We would discuss things, and it made me feel better to know that I wasn’t alone in my concerns.
I know that I’m not alone now, but during something like this, it’s impossible not to feel isolated, physically and emotionally. While I’m enjoying being outside with my family and having time to do projects we’ve put off for way too long, I’m frightened about what our new normal will be. There’s hope in there as well because I think people are realizing that the human party is more important than political parties, and I also think we’ve been shown how much we take for granted. Those two realizations (and plenty of others that are a result of this) can only bring goodness. I take comfort in that when I feel alone, and I hope that you do, too.
So what Winks did you spot this week? Please share them on my site or on my social media pages. We can’t hear about goodness enough during these times (and in normal times, whatever that might look like). Stay well, wash your hands, breathe in the sunshine and call a friend. Here are this week’s Weekly Winks.
Saturday— While I was yanking monkey grass out of our front yard, my sweet husband brought me a cherry bubly (nectar of the gods) without me even asking for one. Love that man of mine!
Sunday— Our church’s Sunday sermon was broadcast via radio and Facebook Sunday morning. John and I sat on the patio listening to it, and to our surprise, the service featured a baptism. What a gift to think about a new life blossoming amidst all of this chaos.
Monday— My dear friend, Missy, called to check on me after I texted how anxious I was.
Tuesday— John began working from home due to the coronavirus. I’m so grateful to have him here during the day.
Wednesday— While lying on my new chaise lounge on our patio tonight, I tried to see the stars through the clouds. (One of my besties gave me this chair as a result of her move. I could not get through this pandemic without it! Thank you, Liz!)
Thursday— I went out to the patio to do my workout of the day (thanks to my awesome friend and trainer, Julie). As I was setting up my mat, a yellow butterfly fluttered by me. My mom came to see me on the first day of spring! I can’t tell you how much I needed that Wink. Love you forever, mom.
Friday— I walked into the dining room this morning to find Jefferson, one of our tabby cats, sitting on John’s lap while he was on a conference call.
As you continue social distancing this weekend, remember that we are all in this together. Peace and love to all of you.