Another Day Sheltering in Place

I went to Sprouts Market this morning. Other than taking a walk outside with Raphael, I haven't been to a place with other people. So it was strange and a little exhilarating to be shopping. Someone wiped down my cart handle at the entrance. All employees had masks on - a change from the last time we were there. The store was limiting the number of customers inside, so it was not crowded and easy to keep a distance from others.

No, I didn't have to lick my finger to open the produce plastic bags. They were already wet from handling the fresh produce.

Once home, I unpacked outside carefully, wiping down the items. I changed my clothes and washed my hands. Left my shoes out in the sunshine. It’s weird how everything appears the same and safe. I think about finding the right balance between overdoing things obsessively and or being careless.

Neither I nor Raphael can afford to become infected.

IF

It’s weird how this post starts out about Vinay Gaikwad, the eldest son of Samuel and Prema.
Tennyson and I worked as staff together with his parents at Spicer as young married couples, then later as young parents. We’d joke saying we’d arrange for our children to marry each other. Well, that plan sort of fell apart as both our first borns were boys.

Recently, Vinay and I have become FaceBook friends. He is a physician but also a talented musician who has begun posting videos of himself playing his violin, the guitar and piano. Sometimes he accompanies his wife’s singing, or they sing duets. Today he did a cover of If by Bread. It’s one of my favorite songs — which I’d forgotten about.

I read a NYT story this morning about an Indian female doctor who was infected at work and died as a result, leaving behind husband, mother and college freshman daughter. If only we could play IF for all those people dying alone. I listened to the original recording a few times and sent it out to all those on ventilators around the world.

It’s a song I’d like someone to sing to me on my death bed. A beautiful soft melody, the promise of someone by your side, embarking on an adventure together through the  galaxy. What’s not to like?

DAY 26 - SUPER MOON

Last night saw the rise of the super moon in the sky and on FaceBook. And though I stepped outside and looked up into its face last last night and early this morning, it couldn't move me.

DAY 21 - RAPHAEL'S BIRTHDAY

Last year celebratory plans were cancelled with Nic’s death. We had planned almost a year in advance to spend a few days in Porto, Portugal with his children and grandchildren to celebrate his birthday. Instead while Andrew hurried from Rio to Paris to be with his sister as she grappled with the new reality of Nic's serious condition, the day dawned with Raphael and me in this luxurious hotel suite while his daughter became a widow at 37, and two-year-old Sloane, fatherless.

Porto was rainy and without charm and I knew we'd never return but we did take long arduous walks through its steep narrow cobbled streets.

A month later as a consolation, I planned a neighborhood party. Preeti came and arranged the bouquets of flowers. He was happily surprised when Paul Pino and the Tone Daddies arrived and set up their band gear. And though the evening was a success, it probably didn't make up for the fact that his children were absent.

This year with the Covid-19 cloud hanging over our heads, we halfheartedly made birthday plans that scaled downwards quickly as we got closer to the day. Maybe we'd camp for a few days in Elephant Butte; maybe we'd take a day trip to Jemez Mountains; or have a picnic in the park. In the end we stayed home and ate the Bittersweet Mocha Bundt cake with a layer of raspberries marinated in Kahlua for breakfast, lunch and dinner. The day before, he had selected the recipe from "The Heart of the Plate" by Mollie Katzen, and low and behold, we had had all the ingredients on our shelves.

I scrummaged in our gift drawer and found a couple items that would have to substitute for my lack of planning and shopping ahead of time. I tissued and bagged them so he'd see it first thing in the morning. The man bar of soap was not just another bar of soap. At $12 the Los Poblanos soap according to its online description was a blend of sage, cedarwood and vetiver essential oils to create a uniquely earthy scent reminiscent of a day spent outdoors. Infused into a base of all-natural ingredients including beeswax and avocado oil, it forms a bar of soap that is as effective as it is enjoyable to use. And though the handcrafted cloth mouse that sat atop the bar as if it were a block of cheese made him smile, what had made the day was the awareness that we were well and together.

Then my phone buzzed with a text around 7 pm. "Come out. We want to wish Raphael a happy birthday," Outside on the street Todd was setting up to fire off a few rockets while Monica and her daughter danced to the Beetles blaring on a portable speaker. Other neighbors came out to the edges of their driveways and into the street in pajamas -- the trending fashion of stay-home comfort, and joined the party now in full swing. Maintaining proper social distancing, we hollered pleasantries to each other and pranced about; Merna played the tambourine; one of the twins tapped on a contrived instrument; and we all clapped wildly at each burst of the firecrackers.

The joyful voices ringing out in the thin desert air made me realize how much I had missed our close knit block of neighbors. And so another day in the continuing cascade of restrictions ended.

Day 16 - Quarantine

Yes, I'm so thankful for each of you and the comfort of you being just you. I go through periods of feeling down and anxious even though I try to limit the amount of news I take in. At other times I compartmentalize it to the far recesses of my brain, turn on some happy music to dance to. But no matter what, I am constantly aware of the pain, sadness, horror and frustration so many are dealing with. I disciplined myself from the beginning to refrain from thinking or saying anything nasty about President Trump, but now when his incompetence and ineptness has put the entire country at risk and people are dying and will continue to die in great numbers, I am angry. But previous presidents are not innocent as each took more and more away from the safety net of the most vulnerable instead of strengthening it. Perhaps the lessons of life must be learned even if it brings us to our knees.
[Note written to my dear friends, Donna, Leli, Preeti, following our book club meeting]

Day 11 - Quarantine

On March 20, a text from my neighbor Sue made me happy. Hospitals were looking for people who could sew to make cloth masks. Finally, I had a way of participating and giving back to the community. I got started right away.

By Monday, March 23, I had made 63 - and donated 60 of them to Ann Silva Sewing in Albuquerque who were coordinating the effort.

I started with leftover material from Nic's shirts. Then began using Raphael's. Shirt fabric is made for the mask. The cotton blend is not only lightweight, the right versus the wrong side indiscernable, and mostly wrinkle free, but the blend apparently repels moisture better than 100% cotton fabric. I can make about 8 masks from each shirt. This is also economical as I don't have to purchase the fabric or use my collected stash. The elastic hair ties make for perfect fasteners.

Yesterday I began cutting pieces for a a new batch and went to bed with soreness in my right arm from the cutting motion, but it was easier than being at a hospital on a 12-hour shift, or going to work where one had to interact with the public all day long.

I sat sewing at my machine most of the morning. It's a pleasant meditative activity. I have bossa nova jazz playing in the background and natural light from a window next to me that looked out onto the backyard with my tumble weed nests swaying from the branches, the birdbath with a visitor now and then, and even though there are a lot of weeds, it's green and lush at this time of the year.

I am sad and depressed when I watch the news or read about the personal stories of those facing challenges of infection.

DAY 5 - Quarantine

December 28, 2007 / Toronto

Strung along by Hope

I’m allowing my soul to die. I stand at its bed side and watch it languish away. I should ring the bell for help. Summon the nurse, but my hands remain stiff at my sides. My feet are fixed. Hope does this to me.

This was a time of deep sadness, depression and disconnection. My frame of mind is so different now that looking back at these few words I had penned, seem entirely strange and unlike me. I don't disbelieve them. On the contrary, I remember this period of my life vividly. But why and how I had sunk so low, I can't explain. Of course, the obvious answer is my traumatic separation from Raphael, but the intensity of the reaction to this situation, I seemed to have no control over.

I have long accepted that my state of mind is easily influenced by external circumstances. As a people pleaser, if someone close to me is not happy with me, then it must be my fault. At least this used to be the case. It's difficult to be objective about one's emotional self. Raphael and I came together again towards the end of 2008 and we have been together ever since -- and everyday with him brings happiness and contentment. So grounded and at peace am I, that I am convinced that it is all my doing. That it is a result of my emotional growth and maturity. But what would happen, if he were removed from my life again?