Day #146 Writing Through COVID-19: Listen to Your Body

Listen to your body. 

Your body will tell you if it's cold, hungry, or (when climbing trees) up too high. 

I repeated this admonition hundreds of times while raising my kids. 

If you listen, your body will tell you when to rest, when to come inside and get a jacket, and when to back away from uncomfortable situations.

It was the advice I gave myself yesterday.
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For five months, Dan and I have avoided church services, grad parties, prom chaperoning, dinners with friends, family visits, and envelope-stuffing with the local Dems. 

Our rare public outings have been to the weekly farmers' market. The event is outdoors. It is easy to keep a distance from others. Most people wear masks, and we can smoothly circumvent the few who don't. 
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But now that my parents are lodged back in Ft. Dodge, and school will start two weeks, I am inching out of my bubble, exploring how to interact with the community while still maintaining some measure of safety.

So last evening we attended a gathering to celebrate a life event with friends.

Earlier this week, Dan got cold feet, wondering if we should even go. I assured him we could leave if we didn't feel comfortable. 

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We lasted about 10 minutes. A grandma greeted us with outstretched arms. This lovely woman sat beside us on bleachers for years of watching our sons and her grandson play football and basketball together. Of course, I wanted to hug her. 

Instead, I backed away with my stiff-armed "stop" signal between us. "I don't want to get you sick," I mumbled through my mask.

"Oh, I'm not worried about that," she said. 
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We took a seat at a back table occupied by only two others. I don't know who they were because introducing ourselves would have meant shouting into their faces over the music. I had a sudden realization of why bars are hotspots for spreading the virus. 

Other than the servers, Dan and I were the only masked people we saw. (Dan removed his after we sat down, but then leaned over to tell me he thought we should leave.)

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No one forced us to accept the invitation. Obviously many people did not share our hangups with an indoors unmasked gathering of lots of people. 

As long as our national government leaves COVID-19 response decisions to states, and as long as Iowa gives these decisions to individuals, distancing and masking will be individual choices.

So I listened to my body.

It told me that under my mask, my upper lip was damp.

It told me I was not thinking joyfully about the happy event we were there to celebrate. 

Instead, it was calculating the distance between myself and others. 

It told me I was anxious. 

It told me to leave. 
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So we did. 

Enough.
Be well.
Write.

Allison

Is there anything sweeter than a baby wrapped in 
a hand-crocheted blanket?