Today was the first true day of Coronacation- in that it’s Monday and the kids didn’t go to school. My spouse is a M-F/9-5-er who is now working remotely. This was the first day of all of us home together with nowhere to go.
I created a loose schedule for my kids to follow in hopes of diversifying their day. Left to their own devices, they probably wouldn’t get out of bed. Ever.
It was a crisp midday with whispy white cotton tangling itself into the beautiful blue skies. I took our dog for a walk at the usual time. She’s a shy girl. If a garbage truck drives by, she tries to hide. She’s not a fan of surprise noises. We’ve created a walking route that includes going by a local elementary school. We incorporated this because we wanted her to get used to the screaming/laughing/merriment/noise.
Her walks fall during recess. At first she would cower and skulk by, trying to make herself invisible. Lately she’s become a bit of a celebrity. “Pepper! Pepper!” the children call to her and line up against the fence sticking out tiny hands, hoping for a pet or a lick. They ask questions about her and tell me about their own pets.
Today, there were no children. The playground was empty. It was eerily quiet. It hit home that we’re in some really uncharted crazy times. It felt grim. From the inside looking out a window, it presented as a lovely day.
The reality is that nothing is certain. People are frightened and anxious. People will quickly exhaust themselves with worry. Uncertainty is a friend to few. Those of us who prefer stability and schedule are grasping for some sort of place-holder in the future.
I think as we proceed the silence will overtake us. Fewer cars will cruise up the street. And I know that everyday the silent playground will remind me of all that is at stake.
Auda Here 