Day 79 in 2020: isolation blog day 4

Some days are good, some days are bad. Today was bad. 

Nearly two weeks ago we had a birthday party for my mom and we said goodbye with no extra umph. Last week we were concerned, but still hanging out with friends marking the closure of the schools (while the kids celebrated). A few days ago even we were helping out at the farm and making plans for our weekly beer date coming up on Friday (tomorrow). All of these events were unique, but the same in one way: they were all, unbeknownst to us, the last of their kind for at least a long while. We have not seen my parents, our friends, or my brother since those moments, no matter what plans we thought we were making at the time.

As a mother I have often lamented the sneaky finality special moments. When was the last time Calvin blew me a kiss when getting out of the car at any one of his solo activities? I can't remember. The act was so constant for what seemed like so many years I took it for granted, and it's disappearance went strangely unnoted in the moment until, one day, I realized he wasn't doing it anymore, and then I missed it horribly. If I had known the last time was to be the last time, I would have marked it somehow, savored it, committed it to memory.

This is an overly macabre reaction. With adherence to social distancing or isolating recommendations the effect we can have on the terror that is gripping our country right now can be managed, and with that luck in hand and "an abundance of caution", we will have lots more together moments in our future. But hopes (no, expectations!) for the future did not make me feel better today when I was feeling isolated and bored, plus I'd spent too much time reading the news, and the news was going in the wrong direction. 

It's only been four days, but the situation's far-reaching reality is finally hitting home. Will we be okay? Yes! Resounding yes. In fact, in the last few days we, the collective we, have adapted wonderfully. Online bassoon and piano lessons, and even Calvin's choir and book groups are going to start meeting online tomorrow. We take daily art lessons online, and we've moved our weekly wine tasting and beer dates to online chats. Then Tonight my neighborhood mom group texted to set up a "mom's night in", and it was exactly what I needed. I needed to hear that we weren't alone, but all experiencing the same things. 

My son doesn't blow me kisses anymore when I drop him off somewhere, some day he'll stop calling his affectionate goodnights, too, and right now we can't sit around a table with our extended family or friends, but these connections will replaced with something else as circumstances change, because we will find a way.