We all have been affected by the restraints of Covid-19—I’m certain in very different ways and with various ever-changing mindsets. At least I know this is true for me.
Some days I appreciate the quiet, the lack of contact, and the freedom from commitments. Other times, as one day seems to blend into another, I feel isolated, confined, and constricted.
I busy myself with jigsaw puzzles, reading, embroidering. I do my best to walk every day. When the weather is nasty, I walk the treadmill—another solitary activity. When the weather is favorable, I walk with Keith and the dogs. The fresh air is restorative, and so is witnessing the beginning signs of spring.
Nevertheless, I’m concerned about how long this isolation is going to last. While my socializing had already lessened due to MCI, these days I now have even fewer physical interactions. Like everyone else, all social activities are cancelled: no yoga, no Senior University classes, no visiting the art museum. I especially miss what had become a ritual of sharing Sunday dinners with my daughter, son-in-law and three grandchildren. I miss their hugs and hearing about their young adult lives. I miss visits from my son and daughter-in-law who live in Boston. I miss the anticipation of a family gathering here at our home this summer.
But I have learned how to Zoom due to family and friends who are “with it” technology-wise. Every few days my five long-time college friends and I chat on Zoom, and last Sunday I shared a virtual conversation with sisters and brothers-in-law, nephews, and nieces whom I have not seen for months. And while I can’t give or get hugs on a video chat, I can see their faces, their smiles, and watch the little ones show off pictures they’ve drawn and toys they love. This week I’ll Zoom with my dear friend and editor. While I can and still use regular phone calls, seeing the faces, expressions and body language of my family and friends makes our conversations so much more interactive and connected—helping to nourish and fill one of the many voids this isolation has created.
While the house is still very quiet with just Keith and me (the dogs, the cat, and the chickens don’t say much), the silence of solitude is broken with voices of people I love and cherish. And I am so grateful.