These past ‘shelter-in’ weeks have focused on so many things I can no longer do—hug our grandchildren, attend the theatre, get my nails done, go to my yoga class. I shake my head at what I am missing with waves of longing for what was once my life. These ramblings are then besieged with pangs of guilt: I have not lost someone I love to Covid-19, those closest to me still have their jobs and though the stock market has my retirement income in a frenzy, it is still enough.
Good is coming from all this uncertainty. I am calling friends more often, sometimes because I have something to share, sometimes just to hear another voice. My husband remains my best friend, we share most of the day and all of the evening together, still finding something to talk about over dinner and ending each night with a kiss. There is more food in the freezer than ever before and white wine bottles have overtaken the recycling bin.
At some point, I may look back on these months fondly. I no longer have to be admonished to stop and smell the roses. From my kitchen, I am watching them gathering strength to bloom in all their glory.
It is enough and maybe just a bit more.
