When Will I See You Again?

In the past eleven weeks, no one has entered our house. Instacart delivery workers stack groceries at our door. We bless these workers and tip them well. Where would we be without them? They shop for us at Costco, Safeway, or Balducci’s, which enables us to eat well during this quarantine that has no real end in sight. We take these precautions because we are in our seventies and have other health risks that make us vulnerable to the coronavirus.

We fill our days with each other, but not exclusively. We facetime with friends and family. We attended our book group via Zoom and enjoyed reconnecting with everyone. Dan practices his Spanish. I read and write and putter in my green green garden. We take long walks. Days melt into each other, as this lovely, if cold, spring unfolds around us. While I am mostly happy, I cry easily, like a few Saturdays ago when we stood on a grassy hillside and watched the Blue Angels streak across the cloudless sky.

Daily we count our blessings. How grateful we are that we traveled to Spain in February and returned March 5th right before Virginia’s “Stay at Home” order went into effect. While we were away, the virus became my obsession. Not that this stopped us from being the intrepid travelers we’ve always been. While in Seville, we went to a futbol game with 46,000 other fans, where we had so much fun. In a mob of tourists, we visited the royal palace and often crammed into our favorite restaurant, a tiny place called Bar Alfalfa. We came home from Spain with what we thought was the flu. Yet we got better.

How quickly Covid-19 is changing this country and beyond. It’s as if the pandemic were a giant hand placed over the mouth of the world. By choice, we stay at home. While life has slowed for us, it has sped up for others. Great suffering is taking place, and not just suffering from this awful disease. Hunger has come to many because of lost employment. All I can do about this is give generously to my local food banks and hope people can return to work soon.

What I miss most are your faces, the faces of those I know and those of strangers I used to meet in the course of my day. I long to sandwich my son’s face between my palms and tell him how wonderful he is. I miss sitting at a favorite lunch place and laughing with friends. Friday nights no longer mean gathering around a Scrabble board with ladies I have known for over 30 years.

Some of these activities I hope to return to, yet there can be no return to “normal” until a vaccine is available. Even then, I doubt I will never feel comfortable in enclosed spaces, nor wish to be in crowds. How the world has stunned me with its beauty and goodness. And I have prided myself on finding my way on buses, trams, and subways in NYC, London, Paris, Vienna, and most other major cities in Europe. Yet I cannot imagine doing so again.

While I mourn the way life was, I am loving this new quiet life. For these days give us time to reflect upon the lives we led, the choices we made, and the regrets we’ve buried deep in our hearts. As Dan and I enter old age, what remains at the bottom of our cup is more sweet than bitter. May it be so for you as well.