I spent thirty minutes trying to center the drapes on the curtain rods.
An hour was consumed when I dusted and wiped.
I cleaned out my closet, and put away my high heels in a box I tucked deep in my closet.
Katy came over to me in the midst of one my rants-
“Why am I always doing all of this alone? You are on Snapchat and I”m-”
And she said-
“Mom, the house will still be here tomorrow, the mess will be here tomorrow, and so will we. And I’ll help.”
She folded me into her arms and hugged me until I didn’t want to strangle her.
Then I spotted a stack of papers, an empty cat food can, a dirty napkin, and some cheerios under the kitchen table. (I spend the majority of my time oblivious and it serves me well, until it doesn’t.)
I started again, but I’m not going to repeat the language I used, but she reached around my shoulders, and let me lean in on her shoulder.
I know she just didn’t feel like helping me clean the damn house, but I admire her tactics.
With love passed on from Katy to me to you,
Julie
I spent thirty minutes trying to center the drapes on the curtain rods.
An hour was consumed when I dusted and wiped.
I cleaned out my closet, and put away my high heels in a box I tucked deep in my closet.
Katy came over to me in the midst of one my rants-
“Why am I always doing all of this alone? You are on Snapchat and I”m-”
And she said-
“Mom, the house will still be here tomorrow, the mess will be here tomorrow, and so will we. And I’ll help.”
She folded me into her arms and hugged me until I didn’t want to strangle her.
Then I spotted a stack of papers, an empty cat food can, a dirty napkin, and some cheerios under the kitchen table. (I spend the majority of my time oblivious and it serves me well, until it doesn’t.)
I started again, but I’m not going to repeat the language I used, but she reached around my shoulders, and let me lean in on her shoulder.
I know she just didn’t feel like helping me clean the damn house, but I admire her tactics.
With love passed on from Katy to me to you,
Julie
Day Thirty Seven- Letter to those on the front lines.
April 19, 2020
I’m at home, fussing about having to cook and opening a laptop, and you are kissing your kids goodbye and heading out to take care of the rest of us.
I’m sitting down with my family and you are eating takeout, gulping coffee, sliding some dollars into a vending machine, or looking for an open place that serves takeout and will let you use the bathroom.
I’m at home, trying to decide between sweat pants and yoga pants, and you are donning face masks you might have warn the day before, and gloves. You might have to wear that face mask for ten hours straight, on the job. You are probably worried the masks, the gloves, the sanitizer might run out.
I’m at home, dancing with my daughter.
You can’t kiss your children when you come home, until you’ve stripped off your clothes, and showered. After all that, you might not even be able to creep into their rooms to watch them sleep. You might be stranded at work, because there is just too much to do, not enough of you and too many of us.
There are so many of us, and you are on the frontlines of an impossible battle with an invisible enemy. You are working to keep us healthy and home.
Some of you are working to send some us back home from the hospital, and have witnessed what most of could never imagine. I would not last five minutes in your shoes, and yet, you go back, and do what you do.
I will never really know what it’s like for any of you, or how you do it, especially now. I know that this is a debt I can never repay.
I will do my best to make choices each day that support the work you are doing.
I am home, and hope that soon, you’ll be home, too.
Thank you.
Julie
Day Thirty Six
April 19, 2020
Day Thirty Five-
April 18, 2020
My friends post funny stuff, important information, photos, questions, sometimes, just check-ins or asks for recommendations about restaurants, learning at home, or where to find toilet paper.
There are sad stories of loss, and warnings from people working on the front lines who know far more than I, and deserve more than a sentence.
There are the people announcing the loss of someone they loved.
There are inspirational quotes, and old wisdom, and poems that steal my breath and give it back.
Some offer glimpses of family life- descriptions of walks in the park, cooking dinner, and video clips of first steps or birthday cakes.
Some are just a sentence or two, stolen from someone else, posted during a commercial or while waiting for someone to make popcorn. We don’t all have the same same of humor, but mostly we do.
I just post.
My updates are glimpses into moments, conversations, temporary revelations, offering tactics that seem to help me cope. I don’t think anyone’s coping. But I leave a lot out.
I’m okay. I have a home, groceries, friends, books, Spotify.
My daughter and son- I already talk about them all the damn time. Remember, you are only hearing my point of view.I don’t agree with all of their choices, but that’s not a blog, that’s a miniseries.
Today, at Tedeschis, I embarrassed my daughter by lingering at the counter, to talk about the fact we were buying instant coffee for some challenge on Instagram.
There were people behind me, I’d left some of my cash at home.
But I was so happy to speak to the woman at the register about this silly internet recipe for Folgers crystals. Katy almost died, but recovered by the time we got home.
When I write my daily reflections, I am selective. I don’t want to bring anyone down, overwhelm, I try not to seem smug, whine, or linger on what seems to be evident. I choose not to be political because I am angry, and leave it to those who are more informed than I.
FYI- Sometimes, I spend hours on Facebook reading reviews for products I’ll never buy.
Lately, I shower every three days, my eyebrows are a mess, and not in the supermodel way. They are a hirsute jungle of proof I don’t care.
When I brag about cleaning, I clean. This translates into I wipe the counters with a dirty sponge sprayed with a product that smells good and cost too much at Whole Foods.
I cried in the morning for a half an hour for something I’m not going to tell you about, but I moved on in an hour because it was tiny, in the wake of everything.
I never liked Whole Foods, and I miss it so much.
Day thirty four- a flute recital and a little bad news
April 17, 2020
Day Thirty Four
Katy and twenty-six flutists just performed their annual recital on zoom.
We sat in the kitchen, and heated up a frozen pizza while waiting her her turn. She played “Scarborough Fair, and it was beautiful.
I just heard that there is the possibility of layoffs tomorrow where I work.
I drank wine while I watched Katy, Madeleine, Brynne, and all the other performers step up to their computer’s camera, lift their flute’s and play their melody.
I may get laid off; I may not. This is not unique to me, my college, or Massachusetts right now. We are all facing nightmares of different varieties.
Even if I don’t have a job, there is music. There is zoom, and people sharing the screen who laugh at my jokes, sometimes.
Life is not only one thing.
Tonight, I choose what makes me sad and what to celebrate.
Tonight, I celebrate the people I love. My cupboard is well stocked- I have rosemary and thyme, chicken and apples. Some day, I will explore faraway places, and these days, if someone is tortured by memories of the one that got away, it’s pretty easy to track them down.
Day 33- All I can tell you for sure is it’s Wednesday.
April 15, 2020
Waves of grief pass thru me at the strangest times- driving the car, walking the dog, cooking a meal- during mundane day to day activities that are as familiar as the freckly on my thigh, or the sound of my mom’s voice.
What I am grieving?
I’m not a traveller, so I can’t say I miss getting on a plane. I’d like to get on a plane, but that can’t be it.
I don’t go to many parties, just enough so that when I’m invited, I usually say yes, and try to bring something nice so I’ll be invited again. But it’s April, not exactly party season, and there’s Zoom. I can drink what I like to drink, in my living room, with my friends, in their living rooms. It’s not ideal, but…
I love my job and I’m working from home.
I’ve probably seen more live music online than I have in the past five years.
There is my deep and abiding appreciation for food other people make, and ordering takeout is considered community service, so I’m doing my part.
I miss anticipation.
I miss going thru Monday knowing I had plans to meet Maggie for CardioBoxing and cocktails on Wednesday night, preparing for high school students to tour the campus at QC, and trying on clothes the night before, in an effort to be relatable, professional, and weather appropriate.
I miss checking the menu on High School lunch on Tuesday, and deciding to skip out of the office on Thursday for an hour to eat chicken or meatballs.
I miss helping Katy get ready for a recital, and looking forward to seeing friends I only see at recitals, school plays, football games, or the Fruit Center.
All I look forward to now is this being over.
There is no date.
No one knows what over will look like.
I haven’t been able to tap into eager anticipation for some vague time in the distant future.
Tonight, before I go to bed, and after I walk the dog, I’m going to plan something for tomorrow.
I haven’t figured out what, but it will have to be more significant than making bread or trying a new workout online.
I’d love suggestions.
I need to look forward to more than coffee in the morning, and getting thru another day.
I’ll let you know how it works out.
Love,
Julie
Day 32- I fight with the teenager and I”m writing this while I try to figure out a way to make up.
April 15, 2020
Since this whole stay the #$$%^ at home thing started, my sixteen year old daughter has been assigned, from time to time, the occasional role of my Best Friend Forever.
(I don’t think she would agree with this label, at any time, ever. I rank below Maurice the cat and every single friend in her contacts on her iPhone. I would be concerned if she felt the same.)
I’m not going to go into details, she might catch me, not talk to me for six hours and I might die.
But I think it’s safe to say Kate and I have different definitions of time, and do not always share the same priorities.
We don’t agree on the amount of urgency required in folding clothes that have been sitting on the table for 32 hours.
One of us feels that sweeping is not important since no one is going to come into the house ever again.
These are not unusual battles between parent and child. and would typically be resolved just before bed, when Katy realized she needed a ride in the morning, or I remembered I needed her to go to a friend’s house after school.
But in the midst of Covid 19, this minor squabble meant I had to exercise alone in the living room. There is no one to ask me to make popcorn when I sit down to watch tv. It turns out, I don’t mind standing behind Kate while we work out, our tiny space felt kind of empty without her. And, without her company, I think I”ll sit down with a book.
We’ve been home together for a month.
For the first time since she was ten, I’m allowed to sit on her bed and to talk to her while she wakes up, even share a pillow. When my back went out, she scolded me about trying to go walk the dog, even though she knew she would have to walk the dog. It was pouring, cold as hell, with 20 mile an hour winds. (We love Sophie very much, but when the temperature drops below 30 degrees, and the wind howls, she’s the dog.)
Right now, Katy is upstairs reading Stephen King, and probably didn’t even notice I turned the music all the way up during the work out.
I owe her for walking Sophie, which is far more important than sweeping, because it’s definitely going to be a little while before we entertain. And honestly, no one has ever visited because I keep such an impeccable house.
I’m heading upstairs to initiate peace talks, but I’m keeping her cell phone until morning. Or that’s what I’m telling myself right now, though who confiscates the device of their BFF.
I guess a Mom does, but right now, I’d like to spend a little time with my friend.
I can wake her up with a list of chores, a healthy breakfast, and offer to listen to her point of view in the morning.
Love,
Jules
Good morning, world. Happy Easter! Chag Sameach!
April 12, 2020
For those of you who are counting, we are on Day 30.
I’m in my kitchen, writing, while Sheldon makes an omelet for Katy. Katy is emptying the dishwasher, and probably putting everything in the wrong place.
I’m writing in the morning because yesterday, I did not. Yesterday, we gorged on pizza and pasta. We watched five hours of Dexter. We spent in the day in our pajamas from the night before. We napped. I didn’t look at my phone, the news, or social media.
This morning, I slept in until 9 am. I’m moving slowing thru the morning because my body aches when I spent a day on the sofa. I am not complaining, I recommend a day on the sofa to everyone.
Sheldon is screaming “Where is the spatula?” like there’s the possibility someone broke into the house and stole it.
Katy keeps asking me “How’s your blog?” like she’s humoring me. When I answer “Fine,” she says “why would you say fine? That’s an odd answer.” I am trying to ignore her, but when I do, she taps my leg with her foot. She is wearing my slippers.
Sophie is barking and Katy is complaining that the cheese in her omelet was not well distributed- “there is a thick block of cheese in the middle,” then moves on questions about the orange juice- was it shaken? “Are you sure you shook it, because I don’t know.” After breakfast, she jumps up from the table, and kisses her dad on the cheek. “Thank you for breakfast, it was amazing! I mean, next time, the cheese-” Sheldon answers- “Next time, I will make you an omelet with lima beans and pickles.” and goes onto label her “beyond fussy” before offering to toast her an English muffin.
Sophie is looking out the window, Michael and Maurice are sleeping upstairs.
We were mostly quiet yesterday, as we ate and napped and watched tv, and ate some more.
Maybe we had run out of conversation.
At the breakfast table, Easter morning, it seems like we’ve found our words.
Katy’s boyfriend visited this morning, and brought her an Easter basket. He stood on the sidewalk, she at the top of the stairs. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but his mom sent a picture.
They are happy, and laughing. They are trying to make things work.
I think we’re getting a little better at this.
It’s going to be a beautiful, weird, and wonderful day.
Peace be with you.
Julie
Day 28, Good Friday, The Celebration of Passover
April 11, 2020
I’ve always wanted to believe in God, or something divine and specific.
Most recently, I quizzed friends who go to church about what they think of their church.
I am a Unitarian, and recently have felt the need to check out a place of worship that celebrated and seemed mostly certain about the existence of God, Jesus, and miracles, Not something out of Flashdance, I like dancing, but I was looking for something a little less UU- everything is possible- and a little more Christian- Holy Spirit, hear my prayers.
I wanted to pray for my nineteen year old son. I wanted to believe those prayers would be heard by someone other than the inside of my own head.
Colin is not living at home, and he’s well, according to him. When I see him, he’s driving away.
He’ll text me at 1030 at night, when he knows I am sleeping, just to say he is thinking of me.
I wanted to turn the grief over losing my son to a higher power.
I wanted the higher power to explain to my boy that he’d do well in real estate, and maybe tell him to come home. (I know higher powers don’t answer prayers the way a waiter delivers orders, but I was reaching. As most people do when they pray, from what I know about the process.)
These days, I’m probably not alone looking for faith, hope, and miracles.
I don’t think I will find faith in a church, or online watching a virtual service, but I might try.
When I reach out to my minister or my friends from First Parish, I will find love. And they will tell me there is hope, and I will offer the same.
I find love among friends, when Katy tells me someday I’ll write a great book, when Sheldon gets out of bed to get me a drink of water at 5 am.
I don’t know about faith. If something has been answering prayers lately, I don’t know who they’re taking calls from. But this is a time traditionally of miracles, so…
Love will have to do for now.
Faith takes time, and work, I think.
These days, I certainly have the time.
Love,
Julie
julierichmond 