Monday, February 8, 2021

Surviving


You know your life has narrowed to the merest slit of an existence when you order a new clothespin bag and one hundred new wooden clothespins and they come in the mail and you get excited, putting your beautiful new clothespins in your beautiful new bag. 
And yet, here we are. 
Ooh boy. 
The sky was blue and the sun was shining this morning. It was chilly but looking to get warmer fast. I hung my clothes out with my lovely new clothespins and then, having no excuse whatsoever not to, decided to take a little walk. I headed down the sidewalk with a left turn out of my driveway but saw my Trumper neighbor talking on her phone by her car in front of her fence and turned around and walked the other way. I was NOT up for that today. 
For years and years I walked a certain route which is not all available to me now as part of it has been closed off but I could take another path to get to the same area which is mostly pretty and which I haven't seen in quite awhile so I did that. Some things have actually changed but the place where the violets used to bloom is still there and the violets have begun their cheerful opening. 


I was very, very sad to see that new clearing has occurred in another place where there had been a few gorgeous wild azaleas. Cleared and fenced. I guess someone bought that property. 
Fuck people and our insane need to cut shit down. 
I should have dug one of the azaleas up years ago when they were still there. At least it would be alive now. But of course, I am not the sort of person who just randomly goes around digging up wild plants to bring home. I know plenty of people do that but it makes me feel quite uneasy. What right do I have to disturb what nature has been growing on her own for so long? 

Anyway, la-di-dah. I took my walk, I didn't have to talk to anyone, I saw violets. 

And then I went to town. 
It had been over a week since I'd gone. Twelve or thirteen days, I guess. In that time the only part of civilization I've been in was the health department to get my vaccine. 
It was a culture shock. I did not really handle it all well.
First I went to the Co-op where May works. I needed a few things and I needed to see my girl and there she was, right there when I walked in. It was so good to see her. We talked for a few minutes and then she had to get back to her work and I got my nutritional yeast and Dr. Bronners and the toothpicks we like and so forth and I kept finding myself standing in aisles, trying to figure out what to buy and mostly deciding not to buy anything on that aisle and then I checked out and when I told May good-bye, I teared up like a little kid. 
"It's almost harder to see you and not be able to hug you than it is not to see you," I said, my eyes welling, sobs threatening to escape my throat, thickening my voice. 
She understood. May is more like me than any of my children, probably. In temperament, at least. 
As I just texted her a few minutes ago we all go around these days saying, "Oh, I'm fine. Everything's fine. You know- it's weird and sometimes it's hard but really, I'm fine!" 
And then something happens and that delicate shell, that wall of protection cracks and we realize that no, we're not really fine. This IS really hard and that's all there is to it. But we can't walk around, we can't bear it without that shell, that wall. 
It's not just our noses and mouths and hands we need to protect. It's our hearts we have to protect and that is so much harder. There are no masks or hand sanitizer or soap that will keep our hearts safe from the grief of not being able to hold each other. I suppose though that there is distance. With distance we can pretend to ourselves that we're not really missing someone we can't even see. 
And this is not healthy. 
So many grandparents have missed out on what may be half of their young grandchildren's lives. Or a fifth, as it is with us and Magnolia. And we've been able to see Lily's children but an hour here and an hour there just isn't the same as hanging out and doing things and eating together and reading books and listening to them talk and watching and seeing how they've changed and what they're now capable of. 
And that is just the selfish part of my grief for this pandemic's effects. The children have missed out on classroom experience and socializing and playing with other kids and being with cousins and aunts and uncles who love them. It's all so, so much. How do we even begin to acknowledge the parents who have had no breaks for a year, who are barely hanging on but do hang on because there is no choice? Add in the financial woes and difficulties and it becomes an untenable situation. 
God DAMN Donald Trump and his making light of this virus and his refusal to do what the scientists and doctors advised him to do from the very beginning. Damn him and his minions and supporters who decided that not wearing a mask was a way to express their freedom. How many deaths have occurred that need not have? How much longer will this situation go on and even get worse as the virus mutates because people were convinced by a big orange baby that it was all a hoax?

Well.
I'm just tired. And exhausted. By the time I was checking out of Publix I could hardly think. I had become clumsy and lurching. The cashier, trying to be nice to me, to be a good cashier, told me that I could get two small boxes of the band-aids I was buying with a coupon that she would give me, for three dollars cheaper and the thought of sending someone to go and get the two small boxes was more than I could handle and I said, "No. Really. It's okay. I'm about to have a panic attack and I just need to finish up here and get home," and that wasn't fair because it made her feel bad and I could have just said something like, "Oh, that's all right, I really need to get home," without any explanation. On top of everything, I've lost whatever social grace I may have ever had and honey, that ain't much. 

So. What a day. I guess at the very least I broke out of my rut, my inaction, my isolation. 
And I got to see my daughter. 

This has all taken its toll on all of us. Even those of us who are in the best positions of all- the ones who haven't been financially drained, who can afford to stay at home, who have a nice home to stay in, who have loved ones that we can talk to, be with, do things with, hug, kiss, be comforted by and offer comfort to. Still, it's hard. 

Everything will look better in the morning. It almost always does. 

Love...Ms. Moon

43 comments:

  1. Sad but beautifully said, Ms Moon. That delicate wall of protection that has to crack at times.....though we try so hard (we must) to keep it in tact. What a day! I spent the entire day in the kitchen....from making granola, to prepping for my pancit and veggie eggrolls that will be dinner. It occupied my brain and sealed that protective shell....for today, at least
    Susan M

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    1. PS I love your clothespin bag! And do you use wooden pins or plastic ones? I love wood....but they are short lived
      Susan

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    2. Wooden. Always wooden clothespins. And I bought the bag so that I can bring them inside when they're not in use which should keep them nicely for many years.
      Cooking helps me keep my shell intact too. It just does.

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  2. Oh Mary Moon you have summed it up beautifully again. You are right. God Damn Donald Trump for putting us in this situation. It didn't have to be this way! I haven't been able to hug my daughter since last year. Last year March!! Almost unbearable. I do get to see her. Not too close though. I have (4) autoimmune diseases and she is so afraid she will get me sick. I understand but I hate it. Thank you for your post. Have a good evening :) Bobbie DeWitt

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    1. Oh, Bobbie. It must be awful for you. Any idea when you'll be getting your vaccines?

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  3. Yes to everything you said. A lot of my writing is whistling in the dark, hoping to cheer people, give something different to think about. But it's really a defensive crouch.

    Thank you for your words.

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    1. And thank YOU, Boud for all of your words and pictures and lovely meals.

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  4. I had to think and think to remember my clothes pins. I had an apron I made.

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    1. My mother had one of those too. I really should have just stitched one of those up.

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  5. Truer words were never spoken!
    In my mind, trump’s a murderer, along with his family, and everyone else who was in on their charade. Hell would be too good for them!
    Debbie

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  6. the damned orange gas- i went there today as well! Suffering the "if onlys" today. Fuck, who knows , Mary, my love, if we will get out of this virus thing at all. Yeah, I went there today. A new cloths peg bag sounds just great! Sunshine , even better! Sending love...

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    1. Thank you, Linda Sue. You are a sister.
      The "if onlys" really do us no good but as a human, I think we have to occasionally go over them in our minds. That is what we do.

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  7. If its ant help to know which it probably isn't our govt fucked us over too with covid in every way. They are just not as famous as Trump fot it. Maggi old with health issues not vaccinated from the UK ashamed of my country Love to you n yours xxx

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    1. I agree, Maggi- neither one of our countries has done what needed to be done and we are suffering because of it.

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  8. I just want to head east and see my grand daughter. She's 2 years, five months old. I haven't seen her for six months. Lately, it has been increasingly difficult to keep myself balanced and sensible. I want to get in my car and go, and to hell with it all.

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    1. I hear you. I understand you. I empathize with you. Oh, Debbie. It so damn hard.

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  9. You have put into words more or less how I feel. I haven't seen my 2 older grandchildren since last March apart from a couple of walks about 6 months ago. I used to see them twice a week when I got them from school, took them home and fed them ! I am OK most of the time, but sometimes I just feel like weeping for no real reason. It just comes over me. You have at least been seeing your grands, we are not allowed even that unless it was a walk, just one of us and one of my sons ( one grandchild included!) ie 2 people from different households can meet up outside for a walk, (small children don't count.)

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    1. To go from that level of seeing and caring to an occasional walk is terrifically hard and no wonder you cry! Yes. I am lucky to get to see mine, at least.

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  10. This was a very intelligent and perceptive post that begins to explore the hidden costs of COVID-19. So much has been lost and we have been driven into ourselves. Not only have we been scared, we have also been scarred. Shirley and I are just so grateful that we are in a support bubble with Phoebe and her mum and dad. Stewart's parents haven't even seen her yet - that must hurt so much and they will never get back those very early days of her babyhood.

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    1. I think you've put your finger on it, Pudding. We might get to go back to some semblance of life as it once was. But we will never get back what we've lost. There's a mourning that we must air for that deep loss.

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    2. You are so right, Mr. P. Scared AND scarred. I can't imagine being in Stewart's parents position. I would go insane, I think. So, so hard. And cruel. What a blessing that you and Shirley can share this time, at least.

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    3. Susan- No. We will never get it back. And yes, we absolutely must mourn because there has been grief.

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  11. You said it. We live it. A toll with unfathomable costs.

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    1. I doubt we'll ever truly understand all that we've lost.

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  12. I heard a snippet on the radio the other day that mentioned the collective grief of the world in dealing with this pandemic and it's true I think, there is a lot of grief in the world right now. Grief not just for those who have died but grief for all of the other things you mention. It will pass but it's just hard right now and we will carry this grief with us.

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    1. Yes, dear lady. You are so right. It is a world-wide grief on so many levels. And I think we do have to acknowledge it and understand that it affects us all.

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  13. Oh, Mary. It's okay to not always be okay. Even the luckiest among us have lost out on so much this past year and grieving that is normal. I hope today has been better, that you got a good night's sleep and today looks a bit brighter.

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    1. Thanks, Jennifer. I know. We all go through it at times, don't we? And it is okay. And I almost always get a good night's sleep- another thing to be grateful for.

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  14. It certainly has taken its toll. I haven't seen my family in a year and a half! It's so weird here because I just plug along from day to day and only when I think about that whole other life I'm missing back in the states do I realize what I've lost.

    Glad you got a walk in. That's too bad about the azaleas. I agree about the human propensity for cutting things down. It makes me crazy.

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    1. It's just easier not to think about things, isn't it? Just so much easier to do as you say- plug along from day to day, make a new normal. All of that works until it doesn't. And then we stop and grieve.
      Whoever cleared that land probably had no idea those azaleas were there. None. We humans not only love to cut things down, we also are blind to so much of that which is around us.

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  15. oh Mary, it does suck. for all the times I have moaned that my grandkids are all grown, during this past year I'm glad they are because I have seen them as often as I would have anyway. and I hugged someone yesterday who doesn't live in my house and I'm not I'm related to.

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    1. I've hugged a few people that I'm not related to and in balance, it was worth it at the moment.
      How strange and awful to have to worry so much about a hug.

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  16. GOD DAMN DONALD TRUMP! That will be that evil bastard's legacy. But you're allowed to be down hon, we all are!

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  17. You vented for all of us, Mary! We get tired and sad but then we just try again tomorrow...

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  18. Amen. To all of it.
    Xoxo
    Barbara

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  19. In some ways, my husband and I are lucky, our children out of college, working, no kids yet, so we're skating between the most stressful realities of this pandemic, teaching young kids while trying to work, grandparents missing out on holding their grandkids close, but even we miss out on the goodness of holding our children close, grown though they may be. I so understand where you are. But oh, that clothespin bag brought back memories. We had one just like it when I was growing up, and I was whisked back to the memory of picking wooden clothes pins from it, to hand laundry in the sun.

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    1. I know you miss your kids so much. You and your love could be taking trips to visit your daughter and you would be seeing your son and his lady so much more often. It doesn't matter that they're grown. You miss them! This is how it is.
      I am glad I could bring back a sweet memory.

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  20. The delicate walls of protection we put up do sometimes crumble, we were meant to be Social as a Species and it is hard not to be, not to have Human Touch. Those of us more vulnerable now feel we can't be around anyone lest it be a potential Death Sentence and horrific way to go at that! The Son just recovered from COVID and had felt awful he exposed us, we Tested Negative, but that close call made us realize we can't be around even close Family that don't live within our household. Our Bubble is getting smaller and smaller and I Hate it...

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    1. I'm glad your son recovered and so glad that none of you got sick but the worrying on both issues must have been so stressful.
      Hang in there, lady.

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