Coronavirus and a Call to Action

The other day I went for a drive.

I’ve been out of the house very little since this whole thing began. About a week into the coronavirus outbreak, I got sick. We don’t know if it was Covid-19 or not. I have a strong suspicion it was, but they wouldn’t test me because my symptoms weren’t severe enough (my doctor informed me that unless I was going into the ER I wouldn’t qualify for a test).

So that knocked me out for five full days. And then, because we had to assume it COULD have been coronavirus, my entire household went on self-imposed isolation for two weeks. In the midst of that isolation our governor ordered shelter-in-place which limited non-essential travel.

So, I haven’t gotten out. Like, even a little. The most I’ve done is a few walks with the kids around the neighborhood and copious amounts of time in our yard. And by ‘yard’ I mean the patio and pavement that surround our house and have been turned into a BMX ramp playground for the Cub and his bike.

Since the Bay Leaf isn’t what I would call a ‘sleeper’. Naps are a hard-won break. Already established, as I’ve mentioned these posts are twenty minutes long. One way to get a good nap is to drive. She falls asleep in the car no problem. Of course, I can’t give her a car nap every day because the Cub won’t sleep nearly as long in the car and their naps don’t always line up. Plus, nap driving isn’t exactly essential travel… but… let’s be honest, psychologically going ‘anywhere’ even if its basically ‘nowhere’ is needed once in a blue moon.

So, I went. When Ben is home, I can tuck her into the car and go for a weekend cruise while he hangs with the Cub. It’s so nice to be ‘out’ in the world, so to speak. I drove to Sauvie Island (where Ben and I were married) and did one big loop through the pastureland and along the water. It was peaceful, quiet, beautiful. The oddest part of the whole experience was the drive to the island. Headed through usually bustling weekend neighborhoods was like driving through a ghost town.

It was gorgeous out. Seventy degrees, sunny, springtime flowers everywhere. And no people… the few I did see were wearing masks or kerchiefs. The grocery stores had lines around the block with masked people putting at least six feet of distance in between one another. All the businesses were closed, there were barely any cars on the road, the parks almost entirely empty.

It was… weird. And it was the most unsettled I had been since I got sick. When you’re at home every day with your little family things start to become routine, even normal. Sure, we’re not going places or seeing family but we’re doing things together, we’re snacking and napping and playing. We’re doing 75% of the stuff we’d be doing anyway. It doesn’t feel like anything is really that different.

Except that it is. Everything is different. That drive made me feel like I had entered into a dystopian novel. Like some sort of biological disaster had wiped out half the population or something and resources were scarce. Thank goodness that isn’t the reality but it was very sobering to witness. Luckily, right now, this emptiness is a good thing. We’re staying home, we’re protecting ourselves, our loved ones, our neighbors. We care, and continue to care. And things are happening. Gigantic things. The environment is getting a chance to breathe. Maybe not for long, but for this brief window the smog has lifted, the daily destruction has all but ground to a halt.

I read an article about how when things get back to normal, the government will be gas lighting us about what happened here. They’ll want us to forget all about the pandemic. They’ll want everything to get back to normal–consumerism, industry, money, money, money. They don’t want us to remember that we, collectively, halted 90% of the economy and survived. We cared. We took care of each other in a world swept with immediate and enveloping change.

WE CAN DO THAT AGAIN.

Unlike what that orange megalomaniac in the white house says, he does not have complete control of the country. He doesn’t decide everything. We have the power to change things, quite literally over night. We can be the change and help the environment and stand up for our rights to have healthcare and shed crippling student debt. We can do that. And I think the young people should take note. This is a tragic circumstance, but this can be an empowering one as well.

Let this pause be our collective inhale.

It’s time to say what we want for our future.

It’s time to say it loud enough that the self-involved sociopath running the government can hear us.

Oh, and vote that jackass out of the office. I’m done with him. And you should be too.

Sending love from on top of the hill,