Coronavirus Days--Week 31
Last night, I didn’t feel like sitting with my thoughts, didn’t want to ruin the buzz of wine consumed with neighbors socially distant. Instead, I escaped with my ears and music, listening to WFUV's stream, a favorite college radio station from days living in the NY Metro area. I coordinated times with Nan to work on the New York Times' Spelling Bee puzzle in our parallel universes; she is traveling for the next four weeks to work on an implementation in Nebraska, home only for part of two days each week. We try our best to keep some of our pandemic habits while she's away, routines, in place even if apart, knowing that it grounds us, keeps us a bit connected in times when connections feel adrift, ready to be summoned to closed doors with the whispers of nearby cold, dark days.
We're settling in for the long haul, as best as we can in these days of increasingly frightening headlines: next 6-12 weeks darkest of the pandemic, Colorado wildfire inferno, those we've lost. There's an urgency for me to drink in whatever social contacts I can have while the sun shines, while there's a low risk when sitting with a friend outdoors, at a large table, having in person conversation, feeling that connection which is one of the biggest things I'm missing in these times.
Sure, as the Denver Film Festival begins I'm missing my tiring days where I'd teach and then run to the theater to see one, maybe two films in a day, some seasons going to more than ten films in a week. I'd always run into a couple I know through writing classes; we'd hug, say hello, and share brief reviews of what we've liked so far. But not this year. It's virtual, and I will still be watching some films, but at home, on my television, without the buzz of the big screen and the audience sharing the moments together. Disappointing. A little, but lately, I am in a space of acceptance. Not because I like it. Not because I have evolved and given up a need to control. But more, that time teaches me that it's easier, for me, if I find some gratitude for what I have, what I am still able to do, the comforts that haven't disappeared, just changed.
Like my birthday. Last year, I spent it with Elvis, Nan, and two of my closest most beloved friends in the universe. We celebrated, never considering that it might be years until we traveled together again. This year, no dead celebrities. No big hoopla. Instead, I went for a run, spent time reading for leisure, didn't work, napped, and then had a delicious sushi meal courtesy of Nan and takeout. She drove across town to get me one of my favorite indulgences--City, O' City's Ho Ho Cupcake. A happy day.
I am storing up all these connected moments, knowing that the time to make those memories is slowly coming to a close, for awhile, as we crawl into that winter cave, our worlds becoming even smaller again, for awhile.