Seven Months In

Dear Liza,

Yep, it’s been seven months (and a few days) since Dr. Fauci announced the quarantine. Spring and summer have come and gone, and our overnight temperatures are below freezing here in Portland. Winter is heading our way.

Late spring snow, the first week of quarantine

Many things have changed, for certain. Shakespeare in the Parks, big band concerts on the grass, and theatrical performances of any kind are a sweet, distant memory. Eating in restaurants, chatting with friendly waiters and total strangers, is now pretty much unthinkable. Cheering for the Pickles or the Thorns would be the height of social irresponsibility.

Silliness at the Pickles game, last summer

And travel to Paris? Out of the question. Totally. Big, heavy sigh.

Sacre Cour, Paris. I miss you, too.

Even going to visit family, sitting on a sofa and playing games with grandkids, just isn’t going to happen anytime soon.

Games in the before times

But many things, important things, are still with us. Love, even at a distance, is still love. Watching you decorate a cookie house via ZOOM or walking a corn maze with the cousins is a reminder of who I am and what ties I have in this world. Waking up and having coffee with Auntie Bridgett. Doing crosswords and taking walks with Grandpa Nelson. Watching horror movies and baking shows.

Corn mazes, masked

I guess all this is to say that we are still holding on, seven months into the lockdown. We wear our masks and social distance and try to be patient with take-out.

Hang in there, kiddo. I will see you soon.

Love,

Grandma Judy