Waiting and hoping . . . . .

It is Easter morning. I am in Honolulu, living a quiet lonely life in my apartment because of the epidemic that has uprooted our lives and kept me from returning  to my home in Nebraska.  Out of the blue something called a coronavirus  is sweeping not only our country but the entire world. I have read of these things but had never experienced one. People are dying, everywhere. We are asked to stay home and if we have contact, to wash our hands carefully, even to wear masks if we must go out.

Stores are closed, some even boarded. Traffic is slight. Hotels are closed.  Several times a day numbers are posted on TV of the fatalities, not only in our country but in all countries. It is everywhere

I am watching Sunday church services on television. Because it is Easter, of course, but also because I want to hear what the ministers are saying. Today they were positive. I did not hear anyone blaming us for this disaster, because of our sins. Good. And for Heaven’s sake we need all the help we can get to put life on earth back in order.

I  know this is nothing new to my readers, but I’m writing this to document and to keep the picture of this experience to read later, years from now although of course it won’t be me who reads

I should hate to leave now, when life is so threatened. We shall hope I can stay to see it all return to normal. Will it return to normal? I do wonder how many facets of life will be affected. It had taken us years to reach that point where we hugged each other and expressed our love more openly.  I wrote about that in my first book. I sincerely hope we will not lose that opportunity to share love.

Can we trust again? I should hope when this is over that we can. I want to hug my loved ones. I want to shake hands with strangers. Even hug them. I want  to know that everything will be all right

Mask the inconvenience . . . . .

I doubt there is anyone whose life is not affected by our current situation. I can’t complain because I am safe and comfortable here in my apartment in Waikiki. I am doing about the same things I do back home in Nebraska. That pretty much takes a sofa or a comfortable chair, my computer, my phone, a throw for my knees, a gadget for the TV and a cup of tea.

In my family I have two physicians, grandson Jason and wife Alayne,  who you wouldn’t recognize right now because they are trapped all day in masks, which I would think uncomfortable. I have a daughter Sara who is a nurse and she is trapped at home, not only because she just had surgery but also because her current work as school nurse is interrupted.

I have a grandson Richard who works in a hospital organizing and delivering equipment and supplies. Yesterday he walked 21,000 steps. He does that every day.

I have a son Tom who is a pilot for Southwest. He sent me pictures taken as he walked through airports without a single person in those huge hallways. And I have a son John in California who has been terribly ill. He was tested and told he was a negative, but we think he had “it.” He’s still recouping.

I have three grandchildren . . Reed, Cole, and Carson. . .who should be having their final weeks in high school and then a glorious graduation. They’ve been sent home from school and told they needn’t come back.  Their feeling must be “That’s it??”  Like my other grandsons P. J. and Ty, they are finishing school on computers.

In Omaha A grown great grandson, Justin,  has less work  and his sweet little daughter has gone to Grandma’s instead of daycare.

Back home grandson Jeff supervises county roads while his wife Terrin, who has lovingly cared for patients and residents of the Home for Veterans for over 30   years. gets into her car every day, drives into town, walks through the door, and puts on her mask.She puts in long hours and frequent overtime.

Meanwhile, in news from Nebraska,  I have just learned that the two people recently admitted to the hospital with the virus, live two doors from me

I think I’ll be here yet for a while, alone on the 22^nd floor of a large complex very quiet now with relatively few residents and  no tourists checking in. I look out at the ocean. No one is surfing. The stores in Waikiki are not only closed, they are boarded up.

It’s temporary.

How I kept my enthusiasm . . . . .

 

Rather than think of this as punishment or even inconvenience I am doing my best to enjoy my solitude during this emergency shutdown. .And while my door is closed and I’m neither going through it nor opening it to others, my lanai door is open to a gentle breeze and a view of the ocean. I am fairly well stocked on food and necessities, thanks to my daughter and to Home Instead. I have finished my income tax and have no more bookwork. I have dismissed my Home Instead twice-a-week helper for her safety as well as my own. I am alone.

So how do I spend my time in this pristine solitude? Well, I watch the news (too much.) I play Scrabble online and have lots of games going at once. I write. l watch movies on Netflix and other sources that I share with family members. I feel I should say that I watch the beginnings of many movies. (I think you know what I mean.)

Yesterday I stumbled upon a show I have seen a few times in the past but had never followed. It’s Larry David doing Curb Your Enthusiasm. (How did they ever come up with that name?) It’s like an old-time comedy show where no matter what the main character does he gets himself in trouble. I think there are ten seasons of this show online and I found it on Amazon Prime. I watched for hours yesterday and I smiled for hours. I even laughed out loud.

This morning I’ve had my coffee with two tiny oranges and two bakery treats from Safeway. I’ve checked my mail, listened to pundits on TV. I’ve made my bed . . . but I promise I won’t lie in it until tonight. I have hours to fill, nowhere I must be, nothing I must do. I am safe. I am well.  I am grateful. And I give thanks.

Now I will make a cup of tea, sit down with my cuddly wrap, turn off the news, and turn on the fun. I intend to spend the entire day with Larry David. Bless his heart.