Writing Corona: Shelter In Place
The Spring Equinox is a time that usually marks the beginning of a life outdoors, when the frost begins to thaw just enough for us to venture out and breathe in. However, this year, we marched indoors and had to learn to breathe carefully. Life finally slowed, and, at first, my body and mind filled with relief. The winter chill lingered as the coronavirus attacked the world outdoors, and so, finally, I was able to stay at home. For the first time in years, I woke up at my leisure, took long walks with the dog, read books instead of listened during a commute, watched movies and television, cooked from new recipes, baked bread, danced to music videos, and talked to long lost family and friends. It was a welcomed respite from the stress of long commutes to school and work. Thanks to the pandemic, I finally got the opportunity to rest free of guilt.
Although I wanted to relish in the warmth of April, listen to bird songs, and frog symphonies, I could not escape the news. The eerie feeling of uncertainty, gloom and doom permeated the airwaves and cyberspace. Alarming tweets from accounts that I did not follow appeared on my telephone screen. Conspiracy theories went viral on social media. Health and government officials published conflicting messages. There was no cure for the virus, no vaccine, and not enough medical supplies. The stock market plummeted. Millions of people were out of work, even though some avenues of employment opened up. Companies closed down, while key businesses enjoyed soaring profit margins. At that point, I was still optimistic. Even if we had to return to basics and plant our own food, we humans would survive this, I told myself. However, many of us did not.
Each day, I noted the number of confirmed coronavirus victims and deaths and each day my head felt heavier and heavier. And when people that I knew died from the virus, I felt completely shattered. There were days that I had no appetite because of the grief I felt in my gut. Eventually, I had no desire to talk to anyone, especially clients. It upset me that they were more concerned about their case, which was at a standstill, than the fact that people were dying around us. When clients called, my shoulders and neck stiffened immediately. Nobody seemed to care enough. Not even our government. Some days I sat for long hours reading or behind the computer screen until I lost the feeling in my legs. Some nights my body aches put me to bed at night and woke me up the next morning. Before I realized it, I had become irritable with everyone around me. It got to a point where my daughters began to notice, pointing out how testy and stressed I had become from watching the news obsessively. I realized then that I needed to stop, be present and pay more attention to my home life, for the sake of my own mental health.
The pandemic cancelled the annual Caribbean Carnival, my daughter’s graduation ceremony, our family reunion, and other summer travel plans. It turned our life upside down so that we would be able to focus inwards again. We have to practice social distancing until it is safe for gatherings, but that does not mean we can’t still find ways to be happy and connect with loved ones. Luckily, we live in the technological age of Zoom, Skype, FaceTime, Messenger, WhatsApp, and countless other methods of social interaction. We never have to feel alone.
My shelter-in-place is my safe haven. My favorite plants thrive at the window in my home office. The vegetable garden is growing nicely. If I feel blocked, I can go out on the back deck for inspiration to write. I can walk around and enjoy the beautiful days of Spring before the Summer sets in. There is nothing for me to do about those who have died except remember and honor their lives in my heart. In fact, I too will face death one day. For now, I can’t ever take the love of family and friends that are still alive for granted. For them, I am grateful.
Giselle Reid, Non-Fiction Editor
Stone Mountain, Georgia