Covid-19: Change

I am used to solitude.

But of course, that's all over. Thanks to Covid-19 shelter-in-place directives.

My husband is at home now. He is preparing, starting Monday, to teach his two Naval Postgraduate School classes, Linear Algebra and Coding Theory, via Zoom, from his home office, which he’s recently relaunched. He is home now, in other words, all the time.

Not the chair, but you
get the idea

I am used to seeing him in the morning, settled in the big brown leather chair with the white cat and his laptop on his lap (they’ve worked out an arrangement). I see him as I shuffle to the kitchen to get my first cup of coffee. (He gets up earlier than I do.) I then usually go upstairs to my bolt-hole, to do my morning reading and, well, waking-up. He’s usually gone by 9: I hear the door click shut, which is my signal to go to work in my office. . . . And then, round about 4, 4:30, 5, I hear not so much the door click open as the thump-thump-thump of the dog rushing to greet him—yay! walk time! After the walk, it’s dinner, TV or maybe some reading, bed—the after-work ritual.

It’s not that much different now, really. I still shuffle for coffee, see him and the cat. I still spend most of my time in my office, working, or upstairs, reading. The after-work ritual remains intact.

But now when I come out of the office into the living room—usually for more coffee (do not ask how many cups: I have no idea)—there he is! We don’t necessarily talk. But it’s like this little shiver in the energy field. He’s not supposed to be here.

That shock of things having changed is everywhere. The afternoon walk to the Frog Pond, and being able to cross the highway without waiting—and waiting—for a gap in traffic large enough to dash through. The absence of the roar of jets from the nearby airport. The still-empty shelves of toilet paper at the Safeway. The uncertainty of finding the necessary ingredients (especially vegetables) for a particular recipe. (As a strict-constructionist, I am reluctantly learning to be flexible on that front . . .) The mask and lavender gloves of Estéban at the liquor store. The CLOSED sign at the Badger Hills trailhead. The yellow tape around the playground sets at our local park. The horror at seeing people hugging, even if it’s only on television.

And yet, there's also the joy of take-out at Gusto: pizzas, salad, and a negroni! At the same time, our beloved Fishwife in Seaside is closed—no take-out, no work for the chefs, the servers—and so many other restaurants as well. An account of a friend of a friend shared by email mentioned that, although she usually cooks her family meals, now they are doing take-out, to support the local restaurants. We'll be doing more of that ourselves.

Owen Wright at Pipeline
photo by Pedro Gomes

I’ve hardly ventured farther than a few blocks these last several days. But a couple of friends mentioned going for drives—just that: drives, like in the old days. As one of them said, after driving along Seattle’s Lake Washington to Seward Park and back home, over the course of 40 minutes, “It seems so old-fashioned, . . . go for a drive in your automobile, because you could.” The other one, as it turned out, couldn't—or decided not to, at any rate: she saw on social media that a checkpoint had been set up to ensure drivers' business on the road was “essential.” Is taking your dog for a drive-about while listening to an audiobook essential? Well, yes. But they might not agree. Enough reason to stay home. She lives on Kauai, where parks and beaches are closed—unless you’re heading across the sand, to surf. “Because #surfing.”

So, surfing in Hawaii hasn’t changed. That’s good.

And now: the evening ritual calls. That will not change either, if I have anything to say about it.

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I haven't been logging the Covid-19 case numbers for our county, but I should. As of March 17, we still stood at zero. The first death occurred on the 21st, at which point the total number of confirmed cases was 11. Today we stand at 27 cases, still 1 death. (Two hours later: update—34 cases.)

Stay inside, stay safe, stay well.