Week 1: Well, these are some crazy ass times we are living in. I am fluctuating between contentedness when my kids are not rushed in the morning, and have plenty of down time, and we are going for daily walks or runs together, and then...panic and anxiety.
I am worried about Liam's health, since when he gets sick it is always a little more serious and he is prone to respiratory issues. Worried about my parents because they are technically of "that age". Worried about our economic stability, Pedro is already out of work and we are trying to register in the overloaded unemployment online system. Drowning what little savings we have. Worried about our friends who are in the service industry and can't file for unemployment, they are losing work and then how do they pay rent? How do we do homeschool the right way? How long will this last?
By Wednesday I was stressed. My throat was starting to hurt which usually means I am overtired or worked up emotionally. I stayed off Facebook for a day and went for our first run as a family and felt better.
I was a resident of New York City during 9/11. During that particular date I was in San Francisco, having just spent time visiting family. It took a week for the flights to resume and when they did I got back as quickly as possible to my adopted city, the city that to this day lives inside me, that I call my favorite. And...I arrived on a plane half full. Circling towards La Guardia airport and I could still...see...the...smoke. Rising from the site of the twin towers, a week later. I often feel that I have the most shoddy memory, forgetting parts of my earlier life. But this, I remember how it felt to be back in New York. And those first weeks back, sometimes when the wind shifted I could smell, all the way over in Brooklyn, the smell of burning. And it was hard not to imagine what was burning. And everywhere, in parks and on sidewalks, were shrines with flowers and candles, and missing persons signs. The fucking overwhelming sadness of it all. I will never forget what New York felt like, looked like, smelled like during that time.
And yet... there was such heartbreaking humanity and kindness. It was palpable. This huge city felt like a small community. Walking down the street people interacted more and just seemed kinder. People helped each other.
This time feels the same yet different, know what I mean? It's scarier because it's global. It's scarier because we don't know when it will end. Not knowing is so, so hard.
