I see people sharing stories of the pandemic with specific information about what day they're on (Day 13: I have not been in a car in a week and a half...), but I don't know how to number how far into this we are. I could start with the day after March 13, the last day that school was open, which was the last day I was actually teaching students, and the last day Katie & Annabel were at school. That would make today Day 19. But that weekend Katie's boyfriend came over, and our local friends came over for coffee (we didn't hug, but we sat at our dining room table together), and Katie's best friend came over, and Annabel had a sleepover at her best friend's house, and we had a church service on Sunday morning. If we started counting after that weekend was over, then today is Day 17. But the school employees had to keep coming in to the schools for 3 week days after the kids were gone, so if we started counting after that, then it's Day 14. But the day after that, I went to the Red Cross to give blood, and that night Geoff and I went into the church to meet with 4 other people to record services for the next two Sundays, so maybe it's only Day 13. It doesn't really matter, but I keep wanting to give each day a number, I think maybe because knowing how far exactly how far into this we are will give me some clarity about how much more we have to go.
My lack of ability to designate a specific day fits in well with the mood of all of this, or at least with my mood about all of this: I don't know anything for sure. I don't know how long we'll spend 99% of our time at home, I don't know what we'll do to fill the days, I don't know who will be the first person I know to get officially diagnosed with COVID-19, I don't know who will be the first person I know to die from it, I don't know whether any of the four of us have actually already had the virus, I don't know when I will get to teach students again in a classroom, I don't know whether Geoff and I will get to go to take our scheduled trip to Prague this June (although I assume we won't), I don't know if the people I love will be ok, I don't know when I will get to hug anyone other than these three people I live with (my parents! my brother! my niece, my nephews, my in-laws, my friends!) again, I don't know when life will get back to normal or if it will ever get back to normal at all, or if whatever new normal we get to will bear much resemblance to the old normal.
I do know how lucky I am. I am not working, but I am still getting paid. Geoff is working from home, and he is still getting paid. We have power and technology and streaming services and plenty of food. We have each other - there are three people that I do get to see every single day, and they are three of my very most favorite people in the whole world. I am lucky that I enjoy plenty of things that I can enjoy right here at home - jigsaw puzzles and crossword puzzles and books and magazines and movies and tv shows and music and occasional board games.
I wish the weather were nicer. I wish I knew when I could go eat at my favorite restaurants again (I wish I knew if my favorite restaurants will still be in business when they're allowed to re-open for dining). I wish I knew more. I wish we didn't have a president who seems to care about no one but himself and who makes decisions that actively damage the country and the people in it.
Katie, who is now 16 years old, has asked me if I am still writing, and I have said that I haven't. She says that I should. Here's another way I'm lucky: I have time, now, to do that.