Last week was a week of survival. I know, most weeks are weeks of survival, but with Election Day and that constant of uncertainty, and again I know that constant of uncertainty is nothing new, I couldn't find words, or didn't want to find words, or had too many words to be found. Like many, I sat in wait, anxious for Biden/Harris to be declared winners, waking 2am, 4am, scrolling CNN to see if something had become certain. If I could count on something more than hope.
I am back this week, not necessarily renewed, but able to find some language for the latest ride into the final weeks of this year called 2020. I'm back cataloguing neighborhood change, noticing piles of leaves swirling in crazy wind yesterday, grabbing slices of blue sky, breathing in a bit of sun, trying to calm the anxiety that feels too familiar these days, that worries as the virus numbers surge with positivity rates in Denver and Colorado over 10% and heading the wrong way. My days of meeting a friend somewhere for a walk and then a distance beer or bite are past, and as the weather slowly turns to colder, it will be awhile before the rates or the weather make any socializing in person possible.
I am fortunate though since I have Nan and our pets; we are not alone. My bookshelves are ready with piles of reading for weeks during my semester break, which is less than a month away. Cupboards are filled with grains, beans, and other staples that allow me to create and make many recipes without a trip to the grocery store. Our freezer is also well stocked, along with the fridge, so returning to a 2 week restriction on heading out to the store isn't too difficult. Even though I know how to essentially shelter at home even if the dial hasn't quite been ordered there by the Colorado Department of Public Health, yet, I am saddened to return back to where we were in late March/early April.
Like many, I wonder how it will be to return to a state of constant interaction, to venture out to places rather than having so much brought to me. Since that still seems like a distant reality, Nan and I try to find ways to have new adventures. And so, last night around 7:30pm, I suggested we order cookies to be delivered, because I had passed a nearby Insomnia Cookies
recently and wondered what cookie delivery felt like. I didn't have great expectations in terms of artisan bakery techniques, and I wasn't surprised that on the web page there was a box to check if delivery was to the dorm. After ordering a selection for sampling, an email directed me to a link that allowed me to track its progress. It stayed on Baking until a text on my phone told me the cookies had been dropped on my porch (as per my request). Brilliant in taste? No, but warm baked cookies delivered to our doorstep made us both happy.
And again, it is a moment of cookie delivery that holds me steady through what is a difficult slog at times. It is thinking about what restaurant to get take out from for our weekly splurge. It is Whitman asleep on the couch next to me as I type this. I hope you have your small and big joys to anchor you in these upcoming challenges as we move closer to the end of 2020.
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