Time Warp, Again

Even with Joe and his family here to anchor my routine, I still find myself losing track of the days. It's not surprising when I really think about it - there's no real need to know precisely which weekday it is. There are no appointments to keep, no meetings to phone into.  It doesn't matter if I have to stop and think to remember what day it is - my calendar for next week is completely blank.

I've managed to establish some rhythm to my days; it helps me to keep on an even(er) keel. Weekday mornings, I get up and watch the baby. His presence here each day is one of the silver linings of this stay-at-home business.

His needs are simple, his eyes are bright as he watches and learns about this world. Last week, he figured out how to sit up on his own. In just a few days, he went from downright wobbly and needing a constant eye to make sure he didn't topple into something, to sitting (mostly) securely as he delights in his newfound ability to pick up rattles and toys.

I find myself futilely trying to hold on to the moments when he falls asleep in my arms while drinking one of his six daily meals, experience tells me they will be gone in a blink. Already he is learning to hold his own bottle; is eating more solid foods. His first teeth should erupt most any day - before I know it, he'll be able to chew, and I'll be watching him chasing peas around the tray of his high chair; he'll no longer be willing to lie back and snuggle in.

Afternoons, since I've finished up clearing that lower patio at their new place, I've been reclaiming the steep hill behind and beside the house. It has a lot of invasive honeysuckle bushes and prickly things that need cutting down, and a LOT of pieces of broken glass that need picking up. (I know I won't be able to find all of the shards, but I figure every one I throw into my bucket is one that won't cut young Joe's tender hands when he begins to explore the hill, as surely he will in just a few years.)

The task greatly resembles real work. It's hot, even on these relatively cool days, as I cut and saw and drag the 10-15' branches to the brush pile. I stop often to stoop over to retrieve yet another piece of glass as I spot it glinting in the sunlight through the ground cover, adding it to my bucket of pokey things. It's turned out to be a great calf, ankle, and upper body workout. Most nights, the exercise works its magic, and I sleep soundly despite the undercurrent of anxiety prevalent in the world.

This isn't how I'd planned to spend these fleeting spring days, but I'm good with that. Soon enough, the new house will be habitable, and Joe and his family will be moved on in. (Not) soon enough, this round of quarantine will be over, and the baby will go back to day care. Soon enough, I'll have to (get to?) begin again to learn how I want to spend my days when the only tugs on my time are the ones I put there myself.

Soon enough.

Corona Spring Continues

The quarantine is wearing on me. I miss my friends; I'm tired of fear and masks and always eating at home. I want to make plans again; to go to the grocery store knowing the items I want will most likely be on the shelves. The latest news says it will be several more weeks before the restrictions are lifted. And since I know I am one of the lucky ones in this crisis, I feel guilty for even thinking about gritching about it. (The guilt helps not at all, in case you're wondering...)

And then.

With my apologies to Dr. Seuss: It came without fanfare. It came without (hash)tags. It came without chocolate or bunnies or (reusable) bags. And she puzzled three hours 'til her puzzler was sore. Then the Grinchess thought of something she hadn't before. What if Springtime, she thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Easter, perhaps, means a little bit more.

I found a treasured silver lining in this past week's Easter celebration. I haven't gone to church for the past few years (long story...). Some times I miss it more than others, and with the virus rampant this year, it's definitely tipped to the missing more side. I've longed for the fellowship of the years when I sang in the choir during the Triduum; participated with all my heart and soul.

And, to answer my need, this year, with all the churches closed, the Easter celebration came to me. I listened to the Holy Thursday service from one, Good Friday from another, and Holy Saturday from yet a third church, their services available online for any with internet access to see. Three different faith traditions, all preaching the same message: The darkness will not last.

My heart needed to hear that message.
Because it's true.
This, too, shall pass.

Springtime is here and it is beautiful and it smells good and shame on me if I'm too wrapped up in my head to properly notice. Once I realized I was pouting early last week, I stopped doing it. I've taken time to open my eyes and nose and ears, and there Spring was, waiting patiently for me. The trees and tulips are blooming, wearing their best dresses. The grass is growing and smelled fresh and clean when I cut it. The cardinals are in full song in my backyard.

It was there all along, waiting with open arms to welcome me into the joy of new life.
Hallelujah!

Busy Quarantine

before

Home, Sweet Home!

But it's not the quiet, ordered dwelling I was teaching myself to love this past winter. Joe, Rita-Marie, JoeB, the three cats and the dog are staying here until their new home is habitable. The castle will need a new roof, new plumbing and new wiring before they can even think about moving in. The wiring is underway, the plumbing will start as soon as there's power, but we're still gathering bids on the roof, trying to come up with the optimal affordable solution. Some things cannot be rushed.

We've all been wriggling around as we adjust to fitting in together. We're working hard not to step on one another's toes, trying to respect what each needs to thrive in this new space. Such good adults we are!

It's been going well, and suddenly, despite the cancellation of all the activities I thought I had planned, my life is busy. Rita-Marie is busy finishing her last grad school course and simultaneously figuring out how to remotely teach her group of fifth graders as she completes her first year of teaching; a heavy load. It's a little hard to type with one hand, though she's getting quite good at it, so I've been helping her out by watching the baby most mornings. (Joe's job is considered essential, so he's gone all day.)

So, instead of a quiet session with coffee and paper, my mornings are now spent on helping JoeB practice learning important things, such as rolling over (he's got this one!), rolling back (still working on it), sitting up (almost there!), eating mashed peas (he's ALMOST convinced the solid stuff is food), and how to soothe himself to sleep at nap time with the help of his comfort diaper. He needs no assistance with baby giggles and sidelong smiles. Not a bad gig; not bad at all.

Most afternoons, I've spent at least a few hours working on my self-assigned task of clearing the lower patio at the castle. While I'm not normally an anxious person, it turns out I'm not immune to the pervasive air of general anxiety surrounding the quarantine, and have had a lot of restless nights. The key to a good night's sleep has turned out to be spending a few hours a day shoveling dirt. The weather's been beautiful, the trees are just starting to turn green, and the task is going slowly which means I have plenty of time to enjoy the fresh air. (There is a lot of trash and broken glass in the dirt which I'm trying to pick out before tossing it over the wall to the wooded hillside below.)

I'm getting close to done. I've found several of the lines of the original stonework beneath the 18" of extra dirt. It'll need to be repaired, and I'm sure Joe will want to add his own stamp to the space, but it was once beautiful and will be so again. That's our watch phrase on this project:  It will be beautiful again; it'll just take a little elbow grease to get it there...

Fortunately, once I finish digging, I'm in no danger of losing access to my new gym. There are plenty more areas for me to turn my attention to; ivy needs to be pulled from the walls, and it looks like my newfound tuck pointing experience from last summer will be put to good use repairing the walls supporting the front porch. If I don't want to do that, there are weed trees to cut down, invasive honeysuckle bushes to clear out, trash on the hillside to pick up. It's a good long list; guaranteed to keep me moving long after COVID has passed us by.

I am well aware of how fortunate I am in this time of turmoil. My April bills are in no danger of not being paid, I have plenty of ways to occupy mind and body. My heart aches for those who have lost their jobs; for those who have become severely ill from the virus; for the families of those it has laid low. I pray for the medical people, putting their own health at risk each day. For the utility workers, the trash picker uppers, the store clerks and shelf stockers, the shipping clerks - all those who are out there working so most of us can stay home to try to slow the spread of disease.

May God's Strength be with them.

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On another note:  Yesterday marked two weeks home after traveling through airports, and it was Kevin's (my formerly homeless friend) birthday, so I ventured out to see him and bring him some birthday cookies. I hadn't seen him in over a month, but he's been doing well. Stir-crazy like all apartment dwellers, but healthy. He's found himself a rocking chair, a small table and some plants to make the place his. Does my heart good to see him well.