Day 54
Where rice used to be. Taken March 12 at my local grocery store.
We are out of eggs, milk, fresh produce (except kiwis and a few onions). We are nearly out of cheese. There are bare shelves in the refrigerator and on our non-pantry pantry area. The grocery list is two pages but should really just be a small Post-It that says: Purchase everything. (Except pasta. We have plenty of pasta.)
It’s been more than two weeks since I have set foot in a grocery store. This continues to be the most significant marker of living during this pandemic: the restricted movement in and out of the house. The self-imposed contest of waiting as long as possible between grocery trips. The subject of food is front and center every day, and the activities around planning meals have grown into conversations and are not just a task for me to do to meet the needs of expediency.
Some days, when I sit down to write, the words get in the way. What is that last sentence? What am I trying to say there? This, I think: I’m not the only one in charge now. I still do the grocery shopping. And I do most of the cooking. But there’s more shared input around the experience of preparing meals. It’s a kind of family collaboration, eating. I’ll keep trying to get at the core of it. It’s essential. Creative. Crucial. Also, we all mostly eat the same foods now. The kids are less picky. And, the standing rule is, if you don’t like what’s for dinner, fend for yourself. There have been very few times someone has cited or invoked that rule. Very few bowls of Cocoa Puffs for dinner.
I did yoga today. A virtual class with an instructor I love. My lower back has been so tight, and it’s as if she knew. As I lay in spinal twist I felt my spine open and lengthen. I closed my eyes and let my breathing slow. I can feel now, still, more than seven hours since the end of class, the energy that comes with a good yoga class. Energy and calm. And a back that is less painful.
The latest headlines are about children infected with the coronavirus. There are cases of children with symptoms similar to Kawasaki disease. Another news story was about a child who seemed to go from asymptomatic to heart failure with no warning. As if this virus weren’t terrifying enough.
When these stories come on the news and my kids are in the room I am acutely aware of how much they are paying attention. Or if they are not. I want them to understand how serious this is. I don’t want them to be too scared. We are all exposed to minimal risks. The trip to the grocery store. The few packages that have been delivered — including the phone to finally replace the one that has been dying for more than six months that arrived today. I washed my hands at least three times while I was taking it out of the packaging.
A news report tonight shared how long the virus has been shown to live on various materials. Cardboard: 24 hours. (The box the phone arrived in is sitting on the floor, untouched since I opened it — and immediately washed my hands.) Glass: 4 days! The sun kills the virus quickly. Good news for my sunny walks and the clothes hanging on the line and just, well, I’m all in favor of sun-positive information.
It’s so easy to fall into the panic. To focus on the doom and let my thoughts spiral downward to when/how/if we will ever return to life as we knew it and the life that was ours. I can’t go deep into those thoughts for long. It’s too scary and doesn’t feel like a healthy place to land. Instead, I will focus on the grocery shopping in our near future and our ability to eat well. Together.
Stay safe, everyone.