• Quiet.

Day 10

Writing "Day X" seemed too negative, so I'm switching away from Roman Numerals!

It's a Sunday morning not unlike many others. The smells of bacon and coffee waft from the kitchen, drawing the kids out of bed...the trumpet of CBS Sunday Morning sounds...I call my mom and dad to check in. The sun is shining and I have the window slightly ajar to feel the fresh air. Also I hate when the bacon smell sticks around too long. It is so, so quiet.

We don't live in a busy neighborhood. It's a loop about a mile long, and we are about a quarter up one side. Behind us, in the center of the loop, are woods and a stream. Other than the washer and dryer, the only sounds I hear right now are birds. As the crow flies, we are about a mile from the Pennsylvania Turnpike, so we can sometimes hear the distant sound of traffic, but today- nothing. Our neighbors are usually busy. But there is not a car to be heard. Wait, there are my wind chimes. Tuned to Amazing Grace, they were a gift when my oldest big brother passed away, five years ago on March 18.

I vacillate between enjoying the stillness and togetherness of our family, and feeling a bit unglued with the degree of uncertainty. There are hours I want to submerge myself in information, but those are becoming fewer and fewer as the days go by. I've never taken a two week vacation, but my friends who have tell me that it takes the whole first week just to relax and "get into the mode".

My thoughts today are mainly with health care workers on every level, and on those who are sick at home, or who have had a death in their family, like my friend Carrie whose dad just passed last night. Health care workers already look exhausted. Their pleas for basic supplies break me. The thought that they may have to chose who lives and who dies in short order....unreal. And those who have lost someone have to grieve basically alone. There are no friends who can visit, no mourners at the funeral home. Probably no flowers or tributes to comfort or distract. No wind chimes. No passing should be so stark, yet how many millions are.

My heart is with the kids and families of my schools, and for better or worse, that is where it will continue to be.

Lastly, I have a friend who lives in Australia. She works in medical sales and we were talking yesterday. She said that they are looking at restrictions covering the next 30 weeks. Thirty. Weeks. That means the week before Christmas. Just letting that sink in.

Time to fold some clothes, straighten up a bit, and move on with the day to day tasks that are now "the mode".

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