Day 58

Yesterday, while I was teaching my kids how to prepare eggs for an egg sandwich, one of them said, “I feel like there should be self-cracking eggs. You know, like how we have self-driving cars?”

I had to stop and write that down. The kid has a point, no? Some kind of genetically engineered/Harry Potter-type wizardry mashup with maybe some Siri capability. Imagine, you remove the eggs from the fridge, place them in the bowl, and on contact — or by some kind of voice command, with or without wand — they just crack, and the shells get out of the way. Pandemic ideas, am I right?

For most of the day yesterday I tried to think about what I needed to be doing. There was lots I could be doing. The house, for instance, it could use some attention. All day I had that now-familiar pandemic gut, the just-been-punched feeling that screams “What in the hell is going on?” and “How are we all going to manage this for much longer?” Also, "[silent screams, crying and pounding of fists whilst listening to the children merrily get along upstairs.]” It was a hard day. Not because I am enduring anything particularly difficult. I am not. I am healthy and safe. My family members are healthy and safe. We have what we need to stay healthy and safe. And yet. Another Saturday with nothing nothing nothing. Nothing to do. Nowhere to be. No options other than should I vacuum the living room today? Even the weather was against me yesterday, with a Polar Vortex arriving and winds that blew over trash cans and backyard toys and, thus, no walk.

It’s as if my children knew I was writing of my own loss and despair, because while I was in the midst of writing that last sentence, they all descended upon my bed, where I returned after getting dressed, with cards and a video. Little did I know, when I referenced the “merrily getting along,” my trio of “hooligans,” as I lovingly refer to them, was working together to make me a video yesterday. And so we watched it, all five of us on the bed. “Top ten mom moments,” it was titled. Plus, bloopers at the end. So. Today is looking better than yesterday.

Still, it wouldn’t be pandemic writing without the grim news that is this:

• Dr. Fauci, the country’s literal hope, is in a modified quarantined because he works in proximity with those in the White House who have tested positive. He also is scheduled to testify before the Senate this week.

• Many countries and states continue to open, and as they do my notifications tell me of new hot spots.

• The number of cases and deaths continue to rise. More than 78,500 deaths in the U.S., with more than 1,500 deaths reported yesterday. One day. And that was lower than the four previous days. Yesterday, in Massachusetts, more than 130 deaths were reported.

• Worldwide: Nearly 280,000 deaths. More than 4 million cases now.

This isn’t the piece I thought I was writing. But, then, isn’t that the reality we are living in now? Nothing is as we could have imagined it would be. We need to be ready for interventions, interruptions. Lucky me, that as I was preparing to wallow in words of despair and lost hope, my children rescued me with their creativity and heartfelt expressions of love (i.e., irreverent teasing of my reminders to wash their hands, and my “weird mom dance” and the way I always ask them to bring me my seltzer from across the room where I left it before sitting down. — three of the Top 10 moments.) I am lucky. And there has been plenty of time over the past 58 days to focus on that reality.

Stay safe, everyone.