I began blogging through COVID-19 on Wednesday, March 18. My school had closed two days earlier, and I sensed that if I didn't pay attention, I would lose large swaths of time during the strange days ahead.
Two days after that, my siblings asked me to shelter my parents who had been living in a care center.
Today I'm writing Day #31 on what is actually Day #35.
I feel like I've been writing every day, but some evenings I get started and then tell myself I'll finish in the morning. Then in the morning, after posting, I check writing off my list...Somehow I've lost four days this way.
In truth, this feels right. Time has become shapeless. I sleep until I wake up. I stay up until I feel sleepy. I slide into a puzzle with my mom and when my neck starts to hurt I don't know if we've been at it for 20 minutes or two hours. But the cardinal is almost finished and we have a good start on the chickadee.
I turn on an evening movie for my parents, intending to just get them started, then melt onto the couch until the credits roll. On Sunday, my NYT crossword app told me I'd spent 2:23 on the puzzle.
If I add it all up, I've lost more than four days. I'm caught between a (shrinking) need to feel productive and the seduction of floating on whatever moment is at hand, embracing stillness and slow motion, allowing the day to unfold as it chooses.
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Late in the afternoon my mom and I washed the last of the basement windows. This is a project we began weeks ago, but who's counting? We washed one window each day, with days off for snow, wind, or laziness.
After I fed my parents, I headed to my mother-in-law's for accordion practice. On the way home, near sunset, I saw my husband's planter in the field. I pulled in and rode a round with him on this first day of planting, something I haven't done for years.
I've lost days, but I've found some too.
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| Window washing April 20, 2020 |
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| First day of planting, April 20, 2020 |
I like the idea of "found" days. I will be thinking about that today. Thanks.
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