back?

Yesterday was the first official day that I would consider us quarantined. Maybe that's because the kids are home. But, it's also the beginning of something--I'm not sure what. There's the part of me that's been scurrying around for three weeks anticipating the mass shut down of life as we know it in the united states. I've watched as-- friends? known associates? have begun spinning their careers into variants of plague savvy influencers, but I'm not sure what any of us really are besides trying. 

I've been met with faces over the past little bit as I've built a home stock of things we might need, and I'm sure much has been forgotten. So...food. I'm at a point where I realize I can eat almost anything in a pinch, but my worries are mostly confined to the children who are not intellectually ready to internalize the meaning of staying put or that food selection isn't geared to their whims. We've lived in such a way that not having some semblance of what you think you want within decent proximity sounds insane--and that's the privilege talking. 

After the family, you make sure that the animals are fed. Here that means about two hundred pounds of chicken feed is put by along with the various dog rations. The road to considering six people and over fifty animals for up to three weeks has been long and twisting. The adrenaline of wondering if I've purchased all the stuff, or most of it, or the right stuff is its own high. 

This is the weirdness of coping with covid-19--the slow build, the quiet in between, the wondering what to do for work, the stupid words, the absurdity of the markets. The emails that won't stop from every conceivable outlet that you've ever given your email address to. They all know what to do or are developing policy or different store hours or tasteless discounts. You and I will cultivate our own policies and views. 

This is the place I've come to remember what I do day by day because right now I'm already forgetting the before. Letting go of the three months of uncertainty and ache of betrayal I've felt at the hands of people I never thought would ghost or slap me until I winced. It doesn't matter. Stopping thoughts of how when the year turns it means something about the next period coming. Spoiler: it does not. But, the wisdom is learning that any time you feel yourself swinging impossibly high, the wind will start to blow you back. Sure--you'll swing back and forth really high a few times. Then you'll hear the creak of chain against the hooks of the bar as you slow. You remember that you were not flying. You were held by a quite visible thing. Your feet hit the ground. Dust kicks, and your knees shake with the vibration. The apparatus did not break, but your trust in the person who pushed you might have.