My nail technician sniped about what a sensation everyone was making. “It’s all the media attention. In a week, they’ll be on to something else.” The woman next to me quipped about her neighbor’s husband: “He’s one of those,” she sneered, “Went out and bought 24 rolls of toilet paper. His wife’s a nurse and I could tell she was embarrassed by him.” I sat quietly, willing myself to keep my mouth shut by letting all my thoughts erupt silently in my head. It won’t do any good. They’ll only think you’re a liberal jerk clutching at her pearls. She could hurt you with those clippers. They’ll know soon enough. Oh, I do want to say she should start making plans to close her business...but no! Don’t do it, she will not appreciate you at all and might thank you by asking you to leave. So I sat with a stupid look on my face and tried to smile while she finished my pedicure. That was March 12. Just two weeks ago, and it feels like months. Her business is closed. The sign went up last Friday.
I, too, was in a sort of denial even though I believed the worst of what I was hearing, and thought the predictions accurate. It’s still shy of two weeks since I went to a restaurant with a couple girlfriends for a St. Patrick’s Day lunch. It wasn’t a smart thing to do, but it was the last time I congregated in any way with a large group of people in close proximity. Since then, I’ve turned into a fully fledged hand-washing, Clorox-wipe-using, physically-distancing, food-stocking, Netflix-binging member of society. Our numbers are still really low in our county, but it’s possible that there’s significant underreporting, so I’m trying to factor that into my personal calculus. I’ve been keeping myself to myself with as few contacts as possible. The biggest social thing I do is go to the pool in my neighborhood. There aren’t very many of us that use it and we all stick to the six-foot rule, and use the Clorox wipes provided by our HOA to wipe off chairs and tables. It’s all very civil and respectful, and...loving.
What stands out to me most about this unprecedented time in our lives is the number of connections and reconnections I’ve been experiencing. Several people to whom I have only been just barely connected to for several years have been texting. We have consequently been feeling the love of one another’s concern. I’ve received phone calls from people I usually just text with, talking for an hour or more. The love has been palpable. Just this morning Verizon texted me to say they added 15GB of data to my plan free of charge. What a nice thing to do! I felt the love. I have plans for a virtual lunch with a dear friend on Tuesday, and have been trying to organize with my sister a virtual cocktail party with our cousins, who we were supposed to be visiting this week in Austin, Texas. I’m sure these events will also be acts of love.
I am both an optimist and a realist. I think we’ll return to some normalcy soon, but I’m going to go out on a limb and state emphatically that it’s not going to be by Easter. Accuse me of clutching at my pearls if you like, but this time I’m not going to be silent. I want all my readers to be safe and healthy, prepared for at least a couple months of lockdown, respectful, realistic, hopeful, and most of all...ready to show their love in the time of Covid-19.
Copyright DJ Anderson, 2020
Author’s Note: The title of this story is a nod to the brilliant Colombian author, Gabriel García Márquez, whose novel, Love in the Time of Cholera, was published in 1985. The main theme of the work suggests that there might be different ways to love different people at different times, depending on personality and the various stages of life. I thought the reference to be particularly appropriate. If you haven’t read the novel, I strongly recommend it while you shelter at home and are looking for activities.
