baby steps
I accidentally hit the wrong button on a group text yesterday and wound up on a three-way FaceTime call with two of my closest girlfriends. We all live within 60 miles of each other, but we’re physically divided by the ocean of social distancing. I didn’t realize how much I needed them until I saw their faces.
It felt really good to connect. As we talked together, our collective brows furrowed while we exchanged the latest from CNN on quarantines and economic fall-out, we were joined on the call by one of the girls’ young daughters. It was delightful and unexpected. And the innocence of Baby J immediately switched us over to the really important headlines of the day: The breaking news that it was time for dinner, the developing story on an emerging back-left molar and, this just in, word of an imminent breakthrough in the transportation sector as Baby J appeared ready to put one foot in front of the other.
Earlier in the day, I found myself making unexpected connections with colleagues, too. In this work-from-home era at the company, everybody who dials in for conference calls is asked to please do so with cameras enabled. Last week, I was grumpy about the invasion of our work lives into our personal spaces. That has changed. There’s an intimacy to being invited into my co-workers’ homes and I’ve grown to truly adore meeting their pets and waving to the children who crawl onto their laps, seeing their wild wallpaper, personal photos, and lived-in kitchens. I need those touchpoints right now. It helps.
We’re finding them everywhere. I’m happy that the question of, “How are you?” has come to mean something. Instead of a perfunctory courtesy traded off the top, before getting down to business, I ask it now because I really do want to know, today, in this moment, how you are doing. This newly genuine interaction feels like an affirmation of the fact that this is all happening way too fast and that we need to share our experiences to try to make it all make sense.
Yesterday evening, Los Angeles County and then the State of California ordered people to stay home except for essential needs or jobs. Indoor shopping malls and non-essential retail are closed. Right away, a friend in Texas who I haven’t seen in a couple of years texted me: “Are you OK?” He got a news alert on his phone and wanted to make sure I wasn’t freaking out. I FaceTimed him back. I had been eating dinner at the coffee table in my living room, hair a total mess and mascara smudged all over my face from wearily rubbing my eyes. A week ago, I would have tried to make myself presentable before turning the camera on, but now doesn’t feel like the time for vanity.
He took the call from his house where he and a couple of members of his nuclear “quarantine family” – those few people we’re now all deciding to entrust with our health by sharing physical space with them – were decompressing together. I was so happy to see his face, and so sad to see the concern in the lines around his eyes. He stepped out into the quiet of the backyard and shared with me that he’s been trying to stay strong for his friends, but that a shopping trip had tipped him into a state of overwhelm. After striking out at an empty grocery store, while he sat in his car trying to figure out where he might go next to try and find some meat for dinner, rain started torrenting down on him. And then the tornado sirens went off.
Yeah. That would send me over the edge, too.
In fact, it had — minus the tornado sirens. Even as recently as 10 days ago, I couldn’t have imagined walking into a first-world grocery store in the 21st century that had posted signs limiting purchase quantities on staples like bread, eggs, milk and rice. And rows of empty shelves. Yet, a day ago, there it was. I have been fortunate enough to have lived a life of abundance. The scarcity gave me a shock.
We keep hearing this is because there is a greater demand than usual from a worried general populace who have all turned a little bit Doomsday Prepper. It’s hard not to read something deeper into the situation, but I choose to take it at face value because I can relate. I made some irrational purchases myself yesterday. The sign on the fridge at Whole Foods said I was limited to two sticks of butter so, since I usually don’t even buy butter, I made sure to pick up two... You know, just in case. My feisty senior neighbor asked me to pick up “a couple” of yellow onions for her, so I got four. She also wanted a loaf of sourdough bread, so I got two. And then the avocados weren’t ripe, so I got six of those.
I forced myself to check out and leave before I bought anything else, because I’m going to have too much guacamole next week and my neighbor only eats one piece of toast each morning, so we’re definitely going to waste some of that bread. And surely, in a few days, there will be more at the store once people like me stop panic buying everything.
But I’m trying to be kind with myself, and with everybody else who’s on the edge of rational right now. We’ll figure this out. And in the meantime, we just need to be patient with ourselves because, like Baby J, we’re all just learning how to put one foot in front of the other.