Still Life: March - May 2020

Dearest Ollie,

I haven't written in a long time because there have been so many changes and I really didn't know where to start. I don't kid myself by thinking that I'll be able to explain myself and be as articulate as I'd like to be. But tonight I'm thinking that maybe a little journal-esque writing is necessary for my well being.

So let's see, when last did I write? Before my 40th birthday -  and I left off by talking about all the new things I was forcing myself to try. I was looking forward to another year of great abundance - love, career, family, friends - confident in my mental, spiritual and physical health as well as my gifted place in the world. Part of me wishes I could go back to that deliciously naive woman and let her know that change was coming; ask her to hold in and take stock of all that precious goodness, store it somewhere deep where no one could access it but me. But I also know (impossibility of time travel notwithstanding) that no one could have prepared me for the future. And how can anyone lock away and accurately remember glorious feelings? I've never been able to.

My birthday was lovely, though your dad and I both got sick. I can't remember now if it was a cold or stomach bug. You didn't, thank goodness. Your father and I bought a new bed, a Sleep Number job that lifts at the head for my upcoming surgery, and put the other one in the 3rd bedroom awaiting Aunt Courtney and my parents to use it when they came to help post-op. We went sledding, enjoyed a boy scout Polar Camp, giggled watching me cram down fluids for my first colonoscopy. We celebrated Fat Tuesday with a King's Cake, we all went skiing (which you rocked), and my sister and I went to a phenomenal Schitt's Creek drag brunch. You called it "Chit's Creek" and still hadn't caught on that it's a curse word. The following weekend you raised $600 for the Special Olympics and jumped into a freezing lake wearing an octopus hat I bought you from the Chicago Aquarium. The next day we went to a diaper drive that featured your favorite radio personalities and then tagged along with Uncle Chris to the roller derby. And that was the last normal event we enjoyed.

That Sunday Governor Walz announced in a press conference that the state of Minnesota may need to shelter in place much like other states were doing at that time, in order to flatten the curve of Covid-19, a disease that had just been raised to world pandemic health emergency status by the World Health Organization, and to allow much needed supplies like masks and respirators and the number of available hospital beds to be increased. Minnesota schools were ordered closed for two weeks in order for the education system to determine what "distance learning" - a new term now encased in pandemic anxiety, much like "quarantine," "lockdown," "asymptomatic," and "social distancing" - would look like for the school district. 

In a week I was to have my hysterectomy surgery and the pandemic wasn't as much a factor in our anxiety as my upcoming healing period. Pre-coronavirus, your dad had planned to take off two days, then your Aunt Courtney was supposed to fly in to help shuttle you to and from school, buy groceries and help to cook and clean. The week following, your Grandma and Grandpa Cook were going to spend some time here as well. I was actually looking forward (to think!) to my post-op and had purchased books, puzzles and crochet projects to fill my time. However, with other states rushing to take the same health precautions, we had to cancel my family members' trips, work around dad's employment, and pray and hope that my body would heal quickly and without issues. 

We rearranged the third bedroom into an office for both you and I, moved the unused queen into your room (you were in HEAVEN), bought groceries and pre-made meals using gift cards from friends and colleagues, and researched schedules for your out-of-school time. 

We had a blast that first week! We did science projects (mostly coloring water with food dye), soaked up some early spring sun and made forts. We created tik tok videos and Lego challenges. Luckily that Friday, my surgery went ahead though it was on the last day that centers were allowed to do elective surgeries. After five days that I don't really remember - I slept a lot and dealt with a catheter bag - I started healing pretty much immediately.

The shelter-in-place order came, along with orders to wear masks and gloves in public and stay six feet away from people. The weather was beautiful which raised our spirits, and then dipped for a while - which depressed us to no end. I started sewing masks for your dad, who was still working in the hospital, and us, as well as family members and friends. Your dad spent three hours waiting in line at Jo-Ann Fabrics that Saturday afternoon to buy supplies. I broke into my Goodwill bags and ripped the elastic out of some old pajama pants. We took  Roxy on walks and little wooden signs started appearing with messages like "You are one of a kind, unique and needed," and "Be thankful for something today." Chalk art was on everyone's driveways as well as paper hearts on everyone's front doors.  People in every country were stuck inside and beautiful things were happening - applause for healthcare workers every night in New York at 7pm, furloughed orchestra members played Bach and Beethoven on their balconies to the Italian empty streets below, videos featuring good news passed around on social media. Hopes were high at home as I made vanilla extract from scratch, taught you about liquid measurements by pulling everything out of the fridge and watched Disney sing-a-longs on ABC reminding us that we were all in this together. 

Meanwhile, friends in New York were telling me about refrigerated trucks holding bodies outside of Elmhurst Hospital and doctors were committing suicide because there weren't enough respirators to treat everyone.

It was horrible. But there were lovely times. On Easter we couldn't attend church, but we were able to Zoom with both families and smoke a delicious pork belly. To brighten my home office, I bought a painting from an old college friend in California. We became lonely...and creative. We focused on each other...and spent times locked in rooms away from each other. We prayed...and berated God. We'd have an amazing two days and then fall into depths of despair for 24 hours. 

Doug would come home, strip off his clothes in the garage, run downstairs and shower. My hours were reduced so we cancelled summer vacations and camps and stressed over your summer plans while I accepted state unemployment benefits. Two weeks later and my hours went back to full time but your daddy went on furlough. There have been so many unknowns that your daddy and I have gained at least 20 pounds each.

We have done things I never would have allowed.

I think the brightest spot of 2020 so far has been your 9th birthday. We were so nervous, buddy. You couldn't have a party and we couldn't even invite a small group of people over. Kids aren't great at social distancing and at that time Governor Walz hadn't lifted the ban on groups of 10 or less. I knew, however, that everyone was looking for something to do to help others. I made a giant sign out of an old work presentation check that said "Honk! Ollie is 9!" and we blew up 30 helium balloons. Our next door neighbor invited you to swim in her pool, and the neighbor across the street blew up a dragon in her yard with a sign that said, "Happy Birthday Ollie!" We put out a call for people to send your birthday cards, and we planned a birthday parade. The morning of your parade, I called the police and the fire department and arranged for them to pass by our house with the sirens blaring! They led a group of nearly 30 cars filled with neighbors, boy scout friends, your teacher, church friends, school pals, your dad's and my coworkers, an old Kindercare buddy and family members to pass our house, turn around in the cul-de-sac and pass again. There were signs, balloons, cards, gifts tossed out windows and lots and lots of noise! It was incredible and you said it was the best birthday ever!

Each month during Pandemic brought something new. 

March: Oh, hey, this is a real thing. Stock up on toilet paper, hand sanitizer and Clorox wipes. But not really the toilet paper because this disease doesn't cause lower intestinal problems but..oh wait, that doesn't matter because you can't buy tp anywhere anyway.

April: Let's shelter-in-place and people who don't have an outside outlet really can't do anything about it. And also, distance learning - so let's try to keep our jobs but lose our sanity while also keeping the children's schedules going and trying to teach them things we've forgotten but also if your child is sensitive to screen time you're effed. But hey, pass around some sour-dough starter, America, and let's bake some bread!

May: Murder hornets may be coming, but also they may not, and plagues of enormous cicadas are a thing. This is getting pretty tiresome, but we can do it for the safety of others! Except for those who want hair cuts, because they're so angry they think it's a good idea to protest with GUNS outside state capitols.

Up until this point, we were pretty much hanging in there for the Pandemic. It sucked, but everyone was in the same place. Everyone - in - the - world, which is inconceivable. There was a lot of grieving and death and dying, but there was also a lot of love, a lot of endurance and strength, hope and patience. Most of it was beautiful and we lapped it up like thirsty dogs in from a long walk. 

Then late May happened. 

Ollie, the pandemic wasn't the worst thing to happen this year. Which is surprising because a world-wide respiratory killer disease is pretty damn bad.

I don't mean to keep you in suspense, but this post is already very long and I don't think I have it in myself to write about George Floyd right now. But I will. Because his name and the names of all his predecessors and successors need to be on all of our lips. And because you need to understand that your parents are fighting so that if you ever come upon such unfairness, you will fight, too.

Until tomorrow, dearest love. Stay safe, wash your hands for 20 seconds and wear your mask.

I'm starting a new series in this pandemic world called "Still Life" because that's exactly what life feels like at the moment - as if we're all standing still watching history write our story.