“How are you doing?” The question, from a stranger passing by (at a distance), made me tear up. Lots of things are making me tear up lately. The nightly videos of people cheering for the healthcare workers, my neighbour-a children’s musician-who posted a Facebook video thanking the parents for supporting her move to on-line classes, photos and videos of C, back in ‘normal times’ when she was out and about in the neighbourhood and beyond. This sadness dwells alongside some really delightful moments, as sadness often does. We made the obligatory rainbow picture for our window today, and listened to rainbow songs as we did. I highly recommend Willie Nelson’s cover of ‘Rainbow Connection’, if you are thinking of doing the same. While out for a walk in the rain I took photos of the rainbow colours in nature. Orange was hard to come by, so you may see a discarded orange peel in there. It seemed like a good East Van touch.
My thoughts over the past week are manyfold as we go about our days of physically distancing. I spend a day cleaning and think about how glad I am that I have the energy and motivation to focus on such a task and a parenting partner who can entertain C as I do so. I consider going out for a walk with my tenant, who is also a good friend, because she is part of our household, right? But then we second-guess ourselves because we technically are separate households and move our chairs six feet apart as we sip wine in the front yard. We go for a hike as a family to Buntzen Lake, then Rice Lake to soak up all the things that are good for us – fresh air, exercise, sunshine, nature – and then stress the whole time about keeping our distance from the many people trying to do the same. We drive through the Downtown Eastside on our way to walk the deserted trails of inner Stanley Park and I think about my privilege and how that community and the people who are helpers in that community will be affected by all of this, in so much harsher a way than I will ever experience. I wonder about how I am going to manage the constant requests from C to go to the pool, to see her favourite business owners on Hastings Street, to go to school, and then think about the family I work with trying to entertain a five-year old with autism while the dad is sick with some sort of virus and the mom continues to go to work as a nurse at their local hospital. I receive my Tamoxifen via the Cancer Agency’s new mail out service and think about my dear friend who is getting her 26th cycle of chemotherapy during this pandemic.
Then Charlotte starts sneezing and I go through the provincial website that guides you through “The Symptoms”. Just sneezing, but the recommendation is to self-isolate for 10 days. Hmmmm. So far we’ve been getting by with a routine of taking the girl out into nature every morning for a couple of hours, but now…no public outings? Okay, I guess it’s just a short dog walk for our one outing today. The next day there is only one sneezing episode, so do we still self-isolate? It’s the responsible thing to do, so the day’s outing is a 10-minute walk down the street and back. But how much smaller can we make her world? For how much longer? I don’t let myself dwell on these questions…they are not helpful. We will take it day-by-day.
So let’s get back to that question..how am I doing? “Pretty well” is my go-to response. Pretty well as long as I can stay in the moment, allow the sadness when it comes, and the joy when it inevitably shows itself. When I can accept how the unknowns and the devastating impacts of this situation must live right alongside my gratitude for the comfort of home, of family and friends via Facetime, the time with my people, and the occasional bit of sunshine in the front yard with a glass of wine and a friend/tenant…at a distance. Pretty well.
