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What a joy today to open my local newspaper, the Marin Independent Journal, and see my published essay, “Slowing down while sheltering in place.” I’m grateful to the Marin IJ for publishing work by writers who live in our community. The piece grew out of posts I’d written here and on Facebook. Looking at them together, I realized several could be combined for a broader narrative arc. Love when that happens, because it rarely does. xo
Here’s the first paragraphs:
We’re at week four of sheltering in place. Like most people, we’re not used to so much isolation coupled with nonstop togetherness. There’s no escape.
When Gov. Gavin Newsom issued the initial order to stay home for two weeks, and our kids’ high school shut down, we dismissed it as impossible. “How will we manage?” we asked, washing our hands and checking our toilet paper supply. Now two weeks feels like a nanosecond. Quarantine and remote learning are the new normal.
Easter Monday was hard and I’m not sure why. Something to do with 4 weeks of isolation, I’m guessing.
Except to walk the dog, I’ve left the house exactly twice: Once to notarize a document at the UPS store. And the second time, to drive over the bridge to SF and my sister Patrice, to swap bags full of lemons for ramen and pasta. Olivia, Mateo, and I kept our 6-foot distance and refrained from hugs.
But oh, to be outside, in the world, to see my sister in real life. That was glorious.
NPR posted a story about a US couple, the Parkers, trying to finalize their adoption of 23-month-old twin girls born in Chad (which I didn’t know was open to adoption, but apparently yes). They endured the usual bureaucratic delays and then Covid-19 hit. Someone suggested the couple return to the safety of their home in North Carolina. To which the Parkers replied: “We’d have to abandon our daughters here. And that is something that we are not willing to do.”
Oh my heart. Yes. Because that’s something I think many people “outside” the adoption world don’t understand. The children we’re adopting become “our children” the second we sign the first document. When we first lay eyes on their photos. The moment we first hold our precious sons and daughters in our arms.
Sending positive thoughts to the Parkers, their twins and their biological son, and to everyone affected by Covid-19, directly or indirectly, which means the whole world, all of us.
Stay safe, everyone. xoxo
PS: The photo is of my husband Tim and me with our son, Mateo, in 2005.
On Easter Sunday, Vitalina Williams, a Guatemalan woman from Tecpan, one of 10 children, in the US for more than 20 years and a legal US citizen, became a victim of Covid-19. She lived in Massachusetts, worked at the Market Basket and Walmart, in Salem and Danvers, towns close to where my sister lives, but it could be Any Town USA. Any Town Anywhere in the World, really. There’s no escaping this virus.
photo courtesy David Williams
Her husband, David, who survives Vitalina said, “I never deserved her, but I always wanted to strive to deserve her.” May she rest in peace. Stay safe, everyone. xoxo
Mateo is studying the universe in his high school science class, and I realize our confinement is like a neutron star: everything in our lives has collapsed down to a tiny core, compressed and dense.
Tim is our designated public person. Masked and gloved, he leaves the house once a week to dash to the grocery store to buy food and essentials. He and I venture out twice a day to walk Charlie, maintaining our distance from our neighbors, who stay safely six feet away.
So far, the kids are content to stay home. They have phones and FaceTime and are not complaining. This morning I asked Olivia what her friends are up to, and she said, “What can anyone be up to? Absolutely nothing.” They spend hours discussing this nothingness, and that’s good, I think. Better to stay connected, however it happens.
This week started Spring Break. Just when we had settled into a schedule, kind of, we were thrown into no schedule at all. Tim and I continue to walk Charlie, of course, and Tim is able to work remotely.
But the kids and I are looking at five unstructured days ahead, seven if you count the weekend. I’ve decided I’ll go with whatever happens, a resolution that is completely, 100% unlike me. Usually, I’m the one leading the charge–to the educational experience, the art museum or historical site, to Universal Studios or Yosemite. In between, I’d encourage the kids to pick up a book to read—(ha!)– or use their free time to improve their Spanish.
I can’t do that now. We’re stuck where we are. We must go with the flow and deal with it.
Since we can’t go anywhere, I’m posting photos of a trip the kids and I took to Yosemite in early February, with our dear friends, Susan and Marisol. O, glorious Yosemite! The jewel of California! Thank you to John Muir and President Theodore Roosevelt, the visionaries who preserved this magnificent site, and to all who ensure its survival.
Upside # 1: Hours pass although I’m not sure how. To get alone time, I’ve been weeding the garden in the afternoon. Bonus points: My mind wanders freely and the yard looks great.
Upside #2: Tim is home, so for the first time ever, we’re sitting down together to eat dinner every night as a family. A gift and a blessing.
