3/21/20 - Virus Reflections

This morning as I write, I’m listening to my girlfriend talk to her grandma.


Earlier, she’d received a text from her dad: I’m sure grandma would love a call from you.


She groaned a bit, but call she dutifully did. They've been talking for a long time. Grandma is loving it.


Come to think of it, it isn’t actually the morning. It’s almost 3pm. But we woke up late, at 11am, after our cat kept us up with his persistent wailing throughout the early hours of the morning. He just wanted attention. I live with the mysterious type of human who can sleep in late, so I've been trying to take her lead.


We aren’t allowed to leave our house these days, but that’s okay. There is plenty to learn here.


I know we’re all worried about the virus, but I wonder too if we’re simultaneously feeling a little more love. I can’t tell you whether the world is feeling more love because I don’t watch the news. For all I know, we’ve managed to make coronavirus a partisan or otherwise divisive issue. I refuse to look.


I can tell you that, around here, there is definitely more love. In the last few days, my gratitude list has consistently read Aubrey (my girlfriend) and Jeph (my cat). Yesterday, I was grateful that my brother could fly home from NYC to live temporarily in Oregon until this all “clears up” or “blows over” or however we’re talking about the end of the end. This morning, my gratitude list included a nice e-mail I’d received from my dad. Two days ago, I was grateful for the conversations I’d had with mom and my sister. We decided not to visit each other, but even that was loving.


My dad wonders if little ones, kids who are only two or three years old now, will remember the pandemic as a time when mom and dad played with them instead of going to work.


That’s a nice thought. Like I said, I liked the email.


On yesterday’s walk, the city of Seattle, which seems mostly about money and technology and I don't want to say godlessness, took a break from its tired self to sit in the park. People were scarcely six feet apart. Can you believe that?

Everyone was smiling, maybe despite themselves. The weather did not get the memo regarding the pandemic. School is canceled, work is canceled, any modicum of control is canceled. So we just sit here in the sun.


No control looks good on us. All that’s really left is love and waiting.


When this is all over, maybe like Jeph I’ll wail for attention. (Even more. And even less apologetically.) Maybe like Aubrey I’ll call my grandma, learn how to sleep in. We can dream. We can still dream.



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