Just Be

            When I wake up in the morning, I’m not sure which Lori I’m going to get. One day, I might get taskmaster Lori. She’s the one who likes to work in the yard, make crafts and pressure wash any flat surface. Other days, I’m met with the Lori who doesn’t want to get out of bed. She’s the one who becomes frozen after reading too many tragic headlines and just needs to sit the day out. 

            Since all of this madness started, there have been thousands of posts on what to do with your “free time.” I appreciate the creativity, but folks need to realize that sometimes we don’t need to do anything but be. I certainly think a pandemic is such an occasion. 

            One of the ways I deal with the stress of this situation and try to “just be” is by reading. Every day, my goal is to make it to our patio by 4 or 5 p.m. with a book in my hand. I need to escape through someone else’s story to keep my story going.

Currently, I’m reading The Astronaut Wives Club by Lily Koppel. I bought it at Walls of Books (my favorite used bookstore) late last summer after John and I watched Chasing the Moon, an excellent documentary about the space race — much better than Tiger King. 

            If anyone knows how to deal with high stress, it’s these ladies. When tragedy struck this close-knit community, the newly made widows handled things the best way they knew how. Some traveled, some moved away and some couldn’t get out of bed. They all dealt with their grief differently; just as we’re all dealing with this pandemic differently. 

            Maybe you’re like my husband. He’s never met a home project he didn’t like. He wakes up early to fix and maintain things I didn’t know we had. And he’ll tell you that the reason he’s so project oriented right now is because that’s the one thing he can control. I respect, appreciate and certainly benefit from that, and some days I’m on the same page as he is. Other days I’m on a completely different bookshelf. 

            When our lockdown began, I felt guilty that I wasn’t doing all of the suggestions that came through my newsfeed. Now would be a great time to paint our bathroom, learn ukulele and/or finally write a book. Then I decided to give myself a little grace — a lot actually. Maybe I will tackle some of those things. Who knows? None of us planned a spring like this, and as far as I can tell, there’s not a playbook for a pandemic. Emily Post surely never covered it. 

            Spring is supposed to be a time filled with festivals, concerts, sporting events, impromptu gatherings outside and allergy conversations. Instead, we’re all hanging out at home, making strategic runs to the grocery store and feeling accomplished when we complete a series on Netflix. It is what it is, and we have to make the best of it in our own way. 

            When we get through this are we going to compare what all we got done while we were quarantined? Is our quarantine success going to be graded by how many books we read, how well our yards look and how many cupboards we cleaned? Are we really going to revert to one-upping each other like a lot of us did before COVID-19?

            I hope not.

I hope that socially distancing will also distance us from judgment. I hope that when the gates open we’ll just be glad to see each other. I hope we’ll tell one another how happy we are that we all made it. I hope we’ll remember what really matters when we’re lucky enough to be together again. That’s the light I see at the end of this ambiguous tunnel. 

            In the meantime, if projects help you deal with this, go rearrange the heck out of your closet. Learn Portuguese if you want! But if that’s not you, that is so okay. Do what will get you through the storm because when this is over, I won’t care how many drawers you organized. I’ll just care that you’re here. Just being will be plenty enough.