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In this house
I can always tell
who is coming up the stairs
by the weight and velocity of their footfalls
Because of the creaky floors
I know when anyone is walking anywhere
Like a Marauder’s Map in my mind
The thin walls reveal
every conversation
personal noise in the bathroom
keyboard stroke
video game melody
piece of television dialogue
even when all the doors are closed
If I don’t want to hear all the details
of your life
I have to put on music
but then
you will hear
my music
Sometimes I sleep
just to claim some time
by myself
but even then I am not really
alone
There are certainly houses
smaller than ours
but ours is small enough
that there is no privacy
but plenty of intimacy
as I can hear you breathing
and I am thankful that
you are breathing
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The ideal person to be quarantined with would be my Nana. She was born in 1911, grew up on a farm, survived the Great Depression, and was smart, industrious, patient, thrifty, and a phenomenal baker and cook. My Nana always had two refrigerators and freezers filled with food enough to last forever. She washed clothes in the sink and sometimes in the washing machine, and dried everything on the line. She washed and dried the dishes by hand. Somehow I feel like she wouldn’t have run out of anything or would’ve known how to make what she had on hand last and last. She never learned to drive and would’ve been content to stay at home taking care of her family, reading her devotions, sewing, and playing Scrabble as long as was necessary. She might’ve been sad that Major League Baseball was canceled because she enjoyed watching the Atlanta Braves play. She would’ve missed going to church every Sunday, but she wouldn’t have skipped a single day reading the Bible. She would’ve called to check on the women in her Sunday school class and people from the church who were homebound (of course we’re all homebound now, but the people who were sick or incapacitated). She would’ve made meals and pound cakes and asked my Papa to drive her to deliver them. I am confident that Nana would have remained calm during all this craziness.
Perhaps because I’ve been thinking about my Nana so much lately, I had two terrible dreams last night in which she had just died. In one dream, I was in the house on Chestnut Street in High Point, North Carolina where she and my Papa lived for most of my childhood. I dreamed that she had died and the entire rest of my family had suddenly vanished. I had no one there to talk to or who could console me, except for an acquaintance I didn’t really trust.
In the next dream, I was in another city–maybe Arlington or DC at night and I was hysterical about her death. I was parked very tight between other cars and was trying to figure out how to get my car out of the lot. My friend Elizabeth appeared, along with a guy who sported an unfortunate Prince Valiant style haircut. Elizabeth asked if I could give her and Prince Valiant a ride somewhere because it was raining. I said I would, but then I was driving up absurdly steep walls, like in a skate park, and I couldn’t seem to get anywhere. I was crying and told Elizabeth I couldn’t drive because I was so upset and she would have to drive, so she did.
When I told Randy about this he suggested the steep walls I was trying to drive up represented the nightmarish graphs we keep seeing in the news, of the rise of coronavirus cases and deaths, and the unbelievable unemployment numbers.
My Nana died in 2005. I wonder if I am suddenly missing her more than usual because in all this terrifying uncertainty, I am longing for her steady, reassuring presence. She would know the right thing to do. I wish she were here so she could meet my kids. And so I could bake her a cake. I think she would like that.
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When my kids were in preschool at AUCP one of the concepts that the teachers and staff there reminded us parents all the time was the importance of teaching and allowing our kids to do things on their own even when it would be much faster for us to do it ourselves. If you are a parent or grandparent or older sibling or if you’ve ever cared for or taught a child, you know that it often takes little kids forever to do anything, especially if you are in a hurry.
Of course this is good advice because kids will never learn to be independent if you do everything for them. But also, life. Sometimes it’s really tedious to teach a kid to do something that you could do in five minutes, knowing you’ll have to cajole them to do it and then it will take them half an hour.
Yet there comes a time–perhaps when you are in quarantine–when you are making three meals a day for your family members, that you must teach your first-grader to make a sandwich. For whatever reason, Zeke has never liked peanut butter and jelly. Recently he has changed his mind. He seems to change his mind about a lot of things lately. So I taught him to make a sandwich. He was proud of himself. He added pretzels to the plate. I cut up the apple. I’m wondering when I can give him the sharp knife…
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I know she would never have chosen it herself, but I actually think Zoe’s 13th birthday while in quarantine was more eventful and filled with love from more people than it would’ve been under ordinary circumstances.
I had put a call out on Facebook for people to send video birthday greetings to Zoe, and my wishes were granted. Beginning this morning I air-played the videos for Zoe on our TV and enjoyed seeing her smile. Some of the videos were from friends, some from teachers, some from people she doesn’t even know but who know her through the magic of Facebook. Some of them were from dogs and cats and plastic birds. One video made me cry and another made me laugh so hard I peed.
Last night we made a Kahoot–an online quiz using an app that Zoe has used in school for years–about Zoe. Today we invited family and a few groups of friends to play during Zoom birthday calls. Our first call was with the McCrays, who all sported birthday hats and had put up a happy birthday banner and balloons for Zoe. Later, the Cass family brought their adorable new puppy, Bentley, to visit us. They stayed six feet away while Bentley nibbled bits of turkey out of our hands. Then my parents drove up with some birthday gifts for Zoe, which they handed through the car window. I had just made pasta salad for lunch and I hurried to package some up for them (along with the baby carrots and tortilla chips we always serve with the pasta salad) and passed their bag of lunch back through the car window before they drove off.
Zoe and I played speed, her favorite card game, at which I am usually terrible, and I beat her. I told her now that she was a woman I wasn’t holding back anymore. Which is nonsense, because I never held back before I just wasn’t good at the game and it was lucky that I won today. Then the four of us played Not Parent Approved and ate pasta salad.
Next we had our family celebration, during which Aunt Susannah aced the Zoe quiz, and our littlest family member Sam did a little birthday dance for Zoe. Susannah and Aaron and Charlie and Sam made the best birthday video ever–their rendition of Taylor Swift’s “Me,” which featured Susannah in a bridesmaid dress and Charlie popping out of unexpected places including the fridge. Also Sam doing baby pushups.
Eager to get back on her bike, Zoe asked me to take her back to the field where she and Zeke rode Friday and Saturday. The field just so happens to be located near her best friend’s house. After riding a few laps around the track, Zoe was suddenly serenaded (from a safe distance) by a vaguely familiar group including a unicorn, Wolverine, a poop emoji, a hot dog, a windsock guy, and a Slytherin. Strangers stopped to take photos and videos.
Back home Zoe got back on Zoom with her squad from school, a happy reunion that lasted more than two hours, until our delivery arrived from Bangkok54. While we ate we watched the Taylor Swift documentary Miss Americana, which Zoe had already watched five times, but it was my first. The movie was excellent and gave me a newfound respect for Taylor.
Of course Zoe received some presents, and some will be arriving in the mail pending coronavirus delays. But the best thing about this birthday was her just hearing from people in Arlington and all over the country that they are thinking of her and wishing good things for her and sending her love. And now that she’s 13 I think she understands how much that matters.
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(this is a slightly belated post for Friday, April 3 as I was too exhausted last night to write)
Surprisingly, this week went by fast. Although we still have absolutely no semblance of a routine, I guess we’re getting used to the new reality. Here’s what Zeke does every day: draws, builds with Legos, reads, does some math (usually with an app), practices martial arts or hikes (and now practices on his bike!), does a zoom or FaceTime call with family, and plays xbox. Here’s what Zoe does every day: schoolwork on her iPad, reads, practices martial arts and hikes or bikes, does some chores, talks with friends on FaceTime or Zoom, and explores the exciting worlds of Instagram, YouTube, and TikTok. I won’t list what I do because it’s much more boring, but rest assured I keep busy.
The absolute highlight of my Friday was seeing Zeke put all his energy into learning to ride his bike, and finally succeeding. And Zoe was an amazing cheerleader and coach for him, as encouraging and kind as I’ve ever seen her with her brother. Most of the time Zeke was trying to ride, he was shouting bizarre phrases such as “Peruvian chicken!” and “I am the man!” He did a lot of yelling and laughing and running between attempts. I did a lot of running behind him trying to hold on as lightly as I could until he got some momentum going.
I fully believe that both my children learning to ride their bikes is a significant silver lining of this pandemic. Before everything was closed and canceled, they always had or made a million excuses about other things they needed to or would rather be doing than practicing on their bikes. Now they have no reason to be tired and they are excited to go outside but they can’t touch anything outside so biking is suddenly appealing. Someday, when all this is over, they’ll be able to ride their bikes to school and to friends’ houses. Can’t wait.
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Today I tried to work while wearing headphones and listening to Bach’s cello suites so I could drown out my children’s noises but they both asked me so many questions I had to take the headphones off and pause Bach about 25 times. Eventually I wound up working in their bedroom while Zoe folded laundry and watched Queer Eye in the family room and Zeke watched drawing tutorials and drew at the dining room table. In case you were wondering, sitting in a bean bag chair is not the most ergonomic way to type on your laptop.
There have been no pajamas in Zeke’s drawer for a couple days now as we are behind on the laundry. So he’s taken to wearing regular clothes to bed, and then he’s already dressed for the next day!
When Zoe and I drove to the church parking lot so she could practice riding her bike, two police cars were there, parked facing opposite directions so the officers could chat. Zoe was worried they were there to prevent rogue cyclists so we left hurriedly. We ended up at a school where Zoe rode laps around the track and then around the school building. I walked a mile around the track while she pedaled. She asked me to take a video of her riding, and she has achieved enough velocity now that I had to jog behind her. During one of the laps in front of the school, I heard someone call my name and saw the mom of one of Zeke’s martial arts classmates across the street pushing her baby in a stroller. I stopped briefly to chat with her (while remaining across the street from her). Because it took me a few minutes to return to Zoe, Zoe worried that I had been arrested for unlawful recreation. Zoe is very law-abiding.
One of my big accomplishments today was pumping up one of the tires on our minivan. My sister observed that it looked flat last time I made a delivery to her house (I brought her an iPhone charging cable and she gave me a bag of latex gloves). I carry in my car a small air compressor that you plug into the car to inflate your tires. I bought this at the suggestion of Reidy Brown after I got a flat in a hotel parking garage and a super nice guy used one on my behalf. I didn’t realize you could just own one of those. But I bought one and it’s come in handy.
Although bits of news and information about the pandemic and its effects on people I love and the people they love we’re still floating around in my atmosphere today, I managed to focus enough on the tasks at hand that I wasn’t sucked underwater by grief and anxiety. I don’t think I can ever get used to this, but I think I am learning how to live despite it.
While writing an email today I typed the phrase “virtual insanity” and suddenly remembered the 2010 song by Jamiroquai. How could I possibly have forgotten about it until nearly three weeks into our new virtual existence? And how did Jamiroquai predict all this so clearly? https://youtu.be/4JkIs37a2JE
I’ve noticed on Facebook a significant increase in ads for whimsical underwear and comfy loungewear. And I am noticing how many pairs of my pajama pants have sprung holes. I imagine all the people with whom I’m having Zoom meetings conducting their business wearing underwear printed with pandas. Maybe I will order some matching animal loungewear for my family so we can quarantine in comfort and style.
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When they first announced that our schools were closing because of the virus, it was only supposed to be for a month. The kids would return to school on April 14, after spring break. I can’t believe this decision was made only two and a half weeks ago. Already it feels like forever, since everything has changed and changed and changed again since then. But way back then, I naively thought that we might still be able to have spring break. We weren’t planning any exotic trips–just an overnight to Baltimore to visit the American Visionary Art Museum, explore the National Aquarium, and take the water taxi to Fells Point. And another overnight to Pennsylvania to spend a day at Hershey Park, which Zoe requested as a birthday present and where she and Randy were going to ride all the roller coasters. Still, we had something to look forward to.
Now our schools are closed for the rest of the school year, although perplexingly that’s not the case nationwide. And Virginians, along with residents of many states, have been ordered by the governor to stay at home unless we need to leave home on essential trips. The number of confirmed coronavirus cases in Arlington has surpassed 100 and continues to climb. It seems like we are stuck at home for the foreseeable future. I just hope to God we can have our summer. Please don’t tell me otherwise right now. I cannot handle it.
I am feeling discouraged. My family will not be able to be together to celebrate my or my kids’ or my parents’ birthdays, or Easter, or Passover. We won’t be able to see friends or go to church.
Everything was glitchy today. Apps froze, devices crashed. Zeke collided with a bookcase and cut his arm. I cannot concentrate on writing anything for work when any children are in the room.
I do not intend to whine. I should just go for a walk. I feel this obligation to make dinner though, since we got takeout last night. I know it could be much worse and we are exceptionally privileged and lucky. But the indefiniteness of it all weighs heavily on me.
You Ask a Lot of Questions 