Our world has become quite small these days. The white walls of our home here both confine us and imprison us. The looming locked front door, a portal into the pandemic poisonous outside world. Every time I have to go out I am reminded of the pandemic movies of the past I’ve seen, fully imagining the air infecting my lungs or invisible virus particles clinging to my hands and clothes. Ridiculous really. It’s absolutely not that bad, but I’ve never preferred to stay home before now. I like freedom, you see.
Good friends of ours know someone who knows someone with a couple of hens. Or something like that. Anyways, they graciously offered to grab us a flat of 30 eggs the other day for the low-low bargain basement price of $10. So today, we hopped in our safe extended bubble car for our great adventure to gather our eggs in our family basket.
We piled The Boy and His Phone and the two dogs into the car, like a good old fashioned road trip and drove the 25 minutes over to their house. We marveled at all the cars out and about, wondering who was this and that. Is that an essential worker going to or returning from a shift? Is that an ER nurse who just left their family and young children to bravely fight on the the front lines of this world war? Is that lady driving home from stopping at 5 different stores on her search for the last remaining toilet paper roll in San Diego?
Hubs pulled up and we got out, standing a very respectful 15 feet away from our beloved friends, to chat. Usually we all hug each other hello and goodbye and it was abnormal and bizarre to force ourselves to do that. But no one wants to be the one who gets the other one sick. So we didn’t dare go any closer. They stayed by their car and we stayed by ours. We laughed about it unanimously and without reservation. What a strange world we now live in, indeed.
We bantered back and forth about how strange it all is and reminisced of the good old days, three weeks ago, when we were free to be worried about other things. They have a pool and a yard and trees and I longed to stroll through and make myself comfortable like I would have in days of yore.
Our families regretfully said goodbye, minus hugs, then we walked the dogs around their quiet and lovely neighbourhood, waving at the few pet walkers out as we went along our merry way. Our drive back was slow and methodical, rolling past the flapping caution tape bordering the grassy areas along La Jolla Village’s beach sidewalk. It was nice to see a few walkers, joggers and bikers out and about, some with masks and others without. A few older couples had command of the benches enjoying the view of the empty beaches and listening to the waves, soaking up the vitamin D from glorious sunshine. But it was remarkably a very quiet place, a contrast to the usually teeming sidewalks and overflowing beaches filled with all sorts of people.
I’m happy to back in our safety bunker for now, but dream of days unencumbered of social distancing once again.
It’s Day 19 and this marks 4 hours off our property for me since March 14th and ‘making my way in the world today takes everything I got, taking a break from all your worries sure would help a lot.’