The blog?

At the end of the Shelter in Place Order, I arrive at a crossroads. Should I keep writing? Take a break?

“You should keep writing,” Sal says. “You have a momentum going.”

I laugh. “You are the one who said I could stop.”

“You could just write for twenty minutes every day. Just keep it going. It’s hard to start again once you stop.”

We talk about the importance of a habit of writing and painting. The Muse arrives without warning, and you have to be ready or you won’t recognize her when she visits.

“Maybe I could post a couple times a week, or once a week,” I say, warming up to the idea.

“Yeah, it doesn’t have to be your blog every day. It can be parts of a story one day, and the blog the next. I do that with my paintings. I put one down and come back to it later, and then I see something new,” Sal says.

I take a break for a couple days. It’s nice having a free evening with no extra credit obligations.

But on Thursday, as the night shadows fill the condo, I feel that pull again. Thoughts and ideas swim around my head. Phrases start to form as I pull out the old MacBook.

What am I going to write about? I think, as the screen lights up. I have nothing to write about now.

I’ll write about that, I guess.

The next chapter.

As of June 15, 2021, the State of California has officially reopened. At one of my WFH meetings, I find out that the County and local restrictions have been lifted as well, to match the state’s.

And just like that, the Quarantine is over.

How do I feel as I type these words, marking the end of a 453-day quarantine? Relief, excitement. Tentative hope. An undercurrent of nervous energy and disbelief. Threaded throughout, a raw sense of loss.

I don’t know why I felt compelled to write every day of the Shelter in Place Order. I don’t know where this desire to record this terrible and bizarre year and a half came from. I know I will never forget it. I know I am ready to end it.

I greet this next chapter with grit in my eye, dragging these complex ideas and feelings with me.

What am I grateful for today?

This blog, and you, the reader.

Day 447: For a moment.

For a moment, I sit on the couch – quilt on my lap, throw blanket on my shoulders. There’s a chill in the room that is just on the edge of pleasant.

Morning has taken a breath. Sun is starting her stretch across the barely blue sky. A messy warble of bird chirps are the day’s first notes.

In minutes that follow, I’ll hear the pad of footsteps and sleepy voices calling out. But for now, in this moment, the coffee is hot and the room is still, but for the tapping of keys forming the first words of a day yet to be written. 

What am I grateful for today?

Sal comes home tomorrow! Almost there!

Day 441: Departures.

At 8:15 a.m. we shuffle the kids out the door and into the Leaf.

“Daddy will be gone for lots of days,” I tell the toddler in the backseat. I’m not sure he fully grasps how long a week is.

I pull into the preschool parking lot and Sal walks them to the door. They hug his legs and say their goodbyes. I then drive Sal to the San Jose airport and park in front of his gate.

“It’s weird that you’re getting on a plane,” I say. “You haven’t been gone for longer than a workday for over a year.”

“Come on,” Sal says, “You can help me with my bag.”

That’s Sal talk for, “enough with the cheesy goodbyes.” I pop the trunk, set his bag on the ground and wave him off.

My WFH day goes by fast, and before I know it, it’s time to pick up the kids. We have mac and cheese and peas for dinner, the toddler throws a tiny tantrum while trying to get his shirt off, the preschooler listens to a Sleep Story on my Calm app, and I shuffle them to bed at 8:02 p.m.

At 9:06 p.m. I sit down to start a blog post. The kids aren’t asleep, but not singing loudly or throwing a fit, so I sip my tea and start typing. After a few minutes, I hear a door shut. The toddler snuck out of his bed again.

At 9:41 p.m. the toddler finally settles down. I rise soundlessly, like a ninja, from the floor beside the toddler’s bed. I creep downstairs and sit down to the blog post again. I lift the mug of tea to take a sip, and the coaster clatters onto the table. I wince. I sneak upstairs and listen for movement….but thankfully, all is still quiet.

Day 1 of Holding Down the Miniverse in the books. Maybe.

What am I grateful for today?

We did a lot of cleaning yesterday, so the chores are light tonight.

Day 436: Night sounds.

It’s 9:01 p.m. and quite dark in the living room. Sal and I share the little couch facing the big bay window. He types something in the Notes app on his iPhone. I write a draft blog post on my MacBook. The screens cast a soft glow on our weary faces.

Waves of synth sounds ebb and flow from the kids’ room upstairs. My iPhone is playing tonight’s bedtime theme music: “Free Spirit,” a Nature Melody on the Calm app.

“I think they’re asleep,” Sal whispers.

I listen for a moment over the music. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

Outside, the leaves on the tree framing the window quiver in the lightest breeze. Road and air traffic add a background layer to the night sounds.

I wonder if the VTA rail yard vigil is still going on downtown, hearing the helicopters.

What am I grateful for today?

A cool, quiet night.

Day 429: Mixed Thursday bag.

Today is a mixed bag. Inside the bag: 

• Coffee and spreadsheets
• Multi-hour meeting
• Virtual lunch with a friend
• Scheduling and scheming
• Pick up the kids
• Monster trucks and coloring
• Eggs and waffles for dinner

We observe an Ohm Hour at 8 p.m. I switch off the lights and read the kids a book by the light of a camping headlight. Around 8:30, Sal comes home from work and starts the microwave.

“What are you doing?” I ask, aghast. “It’s an Ohm Hour!”

“I should go unplug the car,” he says. “I’ll wait until this beeps and then unplug it.”

“Go now!” I say, “Every second counts! I’ll watch the microwave.” 

He goes to the garage to unplug the car.  I type these words in the growing darkness, by the ambient light of the MacBook’s backlit keyboard.

I feel tired, but a good tired. After the Ohm Hour ends, I’ll make an herbal hot toddy to reconstitute. Perhaps I’ll read something, or maybe just stare into space and listen to the wind in the trees. 

What am I grateful for today? 

Sal is a good sport about my Ohm Hour vigilance. 

Day 408: A day of dominos.

Let’s line up today’s events like a row of dominos:

I unload the dishwasher and put away the clean dishes so I can

load dirty dishes in the dishwasher so I can

clean out the sink so I can

wash the vegetables from the CSA box so we can

have something to eat besides the mountains of chicken Sal cooked because

I accidentally left “chicken” on the grocery list and so

Sal bought more chicken even though

I had defrosted a package of like 12 chicken legs and now

we have literally an entire chicken and the pack of chicken legs to get through and

I stuff as much chicken as I can in the freezer and then

I dry all the vegetables and put them in the fridge and

I skip my writing tonight because now it’s 11 p.m. but

I am too awake after all that activity and so

I peruse my cookbooks to find recipes that use up A LOT OF CHICKEN.

What am I grateful for today?

Sal can eat a fair amount of chicken.

Day 400: Motivating factors.

Sal and I are on the couch with Dueling Laptops. I start the draft post for today, checking the previous post for the Day Number.

“It’s Day 400!” I say, laughing. “That’s ridiculous. I feel like I should just stop counting at some point.”

Sal stares at photos of sink parts on his screen, unimpressed.

“Day 400,” I repeat. I stare at the side of his face until he nods slowly.

“Is that today?” he says.

“Yes.”

He nods again, eyes still on the hardware scrolling on his screen.

“Is that when you said you’d stop?” he asks.

I think for a moment. “Yeah, I guess it was.”

Many times this year, I have wondered when to end this blog. I started it to document the daily life under the Shelter in Place Order. I wrote as a way to take the sting out of the fear of the pandemic. As the days collected past the original three week Order, I kept writing. I wrote for my boys, so they would have a record of all the strange ways we entertained them in Quarantine. A few months passed. Then a summer…then a year.

How long do I keep going?

I considered several options for ending it:

• At the one-year mark
• When I got the vaccine
• On Day 400…a nice, round number
• When California opens up again

Every time the subject comes up, a voice in the back of my head whispers: You said you would blog every day through the end of the Order. It won’t let up. Despite the extra stress in our lives, the exhaustion, the monotony, something has keep the blog going.

I think it is you.

By popping in with your “likes,” your comments, advice, and encouragement, or just quietly reading these words, you have been with me on this journey. Together, we bear witness to this most remarkable of times.

What am I grateful for today?

Sal and I went out for lunch today.

Day 391: Neverending Monday.

From the moment I open my eyes to the time I close them today, I am doing something.

Morning:

• Make coffee
• Set up the table for kids’ breakfast
• Chase after children with toothbrushes and combs
• Get ready for work

WFH Day:

• Excel spreadsheets
• Meetings and deadlines
• Emails and calls
• Lunch at desk at 1:45 p.m. whilst planning and scheming

After work:

• Pick up kids
• Make pancakes for dinner, by special request from the preschooler
• Clearing dishes, starting laundry

Kids’ bedtime:

• Clean up time with multiple reminders and frustrations
• Pajamas wrangling
• Chasing children with toothbrushes
• Reading stories

After hours:

• Friends and family text and calls
• Life admin arrangements and plans
• Prep for an early day tomorrow
• Edit, post, write blogs
• Good Lord, is it 10 p.m. already?

What am I grateful for today?

Nice chat with my brother.

Day 379: Special Wednesday.

It’s a special Wednesday. I took the day off, and today Sal gets his second COVID-19 vaccine dose! While he is off being a part of history, I have a leisurely morning with many languid sips of coffee. The coffee is good today, because Sal put the filter in the coffee maker the night before, to avoid any Coffee Mishaps from reoccurring. He got the idea from a friend who reads this blog. Thank you, Friend!

In the afternoon, I drive to Alum Rock Park for a walk along the creek. It’s the very last day of *free parking at San Jose parks.* I am a sucker for free parking. On my walk, I think about the color palate of this area.

A ribbon of color flows through the creek

Though San Jose is greener today than recent years, it still looks like fall to me, even in the spring. I grew up in the hills of southwest Virginia, with green everywhere. My childhood was teeming with life – lush vegetation, bugs, critters, and creeks always full of water.

I think about a conversation with a friend about the scrubbiness of semi-arid scenery. She grew up in Australia, and the brown, gold, and rusty red scenery was homey and comforting. She visited the East Coast and found the bright green abundance to be strange and overwhelming.

Although the semi-arid landscape doesn’t fill me with comforting, snuggly feelings, after several years of taking it in, I appreciate the subtleties of the color pallet nature offers here. I’ve grown to appreciate the unique qualities of the land – the flatness, the big sky, the ocean, the wetland interface.

There’s magic here, I think

What am I grateful for today?

Sal graduated to Second-Doser!