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
Day 24 When This is Done, and It Will Be Done-
April 9, 2020
I will remember the nervous eyes of shoppers at the grocery store, faces hidden behind surgical masks, walking with friends from a distance, and as the news got worse, walking alone, and writing about moments of grief, terror, and anger on Facebook and finding connection in the conversation that followed.
But what I will remember most is this-
every night, about twenty minutes in advance, I scream upstairs, where she hides for hours, behind I closed door because she says I am noisy, “KATY?”
We do a dance class online, and for some reason, it really matters to me that we do it “live”.
When the music has started, she is usually looking for her sneakers, or finding her yoga pants.
When she arrives, the first thing she does is close the curtains in the living room. I move back and give her the spot directly in front of the lap top. She uses my only pair of free weights, I use a jar of tomato sauce and a can of peaches.
For an hour, we dance. Actually, by the time she gets there, it’s more like fifty minutes.
One night, we had a disagreement, probably because she was late. When she arrived, I told her I wasn’t going to make her stay, she could go back upstairs to her FaceTime and homework.
Katy looked at me and said “Mom, I look forward to this.”
So do I.
Waking up is hard. Sleep is impossible.
But for a little less than an hour, almost every night for 28 days, my daughter and I have shared a tiny space in our living room and danced.
I hope you have a person, a song, or a memory to help you thru.
Love,
jules
Day 23 Losing my religion
April 9, 2020
I don’t want to dance, eat spinach, meditate, work, take a shower, take a walk, clean the cupboards, don a mask, take a vitamin, or kiss my kid.
I’ve done all that, and more.
Quite simply, there is nothing else to do.
Yesterday, our neighbor sat outside on a beach blanket. She turned her face up to the sun. She was smiling, and talking on her phone.
I don’t want to sit on a blanket.
I want to have a tantrum, a roll around on the bed and wail until I’m gulping air like water, temper tantrum.
I want to scream at the heavens.
I want to punch a wall, use nasty words, and snap at someone innocent.
This is where I’m at today, Day 23, at home.
I am finding comfort doing things I don’t want to do, remembering yesterday’s sunshine and the lady next door, and wondering if I remember the words to the Lords Prayer or any prayer at all.
Love,
Jules
Conversation and Future of Conversation on Day 22
April 9, 2020
Katy and I just discussed the importance of correctly loading the dishwasher and nesting the silverware.
Maybe tomorrow, Sheldon and I will debate the value of a linen closet, and the challenges of folding a contour sheet.
Day 21- Not Getting Any Better At This
April 7, 2020
The sun is out, 2nd day in a row.
My daughter is laughing upstairs at a video, already completed on workout with me, and has promised another.
Sheldon suggested we order takeout, so now I don’t have to chop vegetables, boil water for pasta, or do dishes. (I don’t think he’s a huge fan of my cooking, which actually works out pretty well sometimes.)
I’ve been for a walk, used a coupon, had plenty of work today, don’t need toilet paper, have given up on my hair, caught a really cool performance of one of the songs from Hamilton, completed morning meditation…
Did I mention the sun was out?
I’m feeling cranky, irritable, angry, and not happy.
To feel better, I’m going to-
Eat dinner. (I might just be hangry, this might have nothing to do with 20 days quarantine-pandemic-people are dying-who knows when this is going to end- issues).
Call my mom. It amazes me we still have something to say. We’ve been talking almost every day for twenty years, and we’re not terribly interesting people. She is, actually. When she’s not trying to get me to watch Big Brother.
Do Zumba with Katy- this is an issue. If I dance before I eat, I might faint. If I try after, I won’t want to, and then I will be cranky and bloated. Maybe I’ll eat an apple now.
Have a long conversation with Sophie about how she is the very, very, very best dog in the whole wide world. Hope that she somehow communicates I am the very best human, because that would be helpful right now.
Remind myself- Even though I am privileged and able to isolate with family at home, inside our home, and have a job, it is fine to be pissed off sometimes.
I apologize for the language. But I’m having a day.
Thank the Lord for the nighttime.
I need to play that song at full volume- “Thank The Lord For The Nighttime,” by Neil Diamond. He always makes me feel better, except for “Love on the Rocks”. I’m also not a fan of “I Am, I Said” and have never considered speaking to a chair, no matter how cranky, irritable, angry, and not happy I was. Though I might try, if my spirits don’t improve.
Here’s hoping none of us end up speaking to the furniture anytime soon.
Julie
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