I got a text this morning from our backyard neighbor, "Seeing your light on makes me smile. Just knowing you're there even though it is a yard away."
Our days have not actually changed all that much. We get up, Jon walks the dog while I make coffee and put away yesterday's dishes and Calvin gets started on school. That's when the light over our dining table goes on—the one that the neighbors can easily see from their own dining area, a cookie cutter version of ours—and the light usually stays on for the rest of the morning, at least until I used to take Calvin to school after lunch. And these days have been no different, except that the light often stays on longer as we spend the afternoon continuing with projects.
But that simple text was a touching reminder that life is not normal, and we are all in this together. When I go running outside now people cross the street as I come near, but they also wave and smile, and sometimes even call out a hello. I have had more social connections (remote social connections) with friends in the past week than I have in the last three months. And my neighbor, not usually home during a week day, reaches out just to say hello.
Who knew isolation could bring us so close?
When I left the house at lunchtime today to make a pharmacy run (likely the last time I'll go out for a long time), I left the light on in our dining room.
