April 21, 2020
Momentary panic aside, the last week or so has felt like a dream to me. I say “dream” not only in the surreal sense, but in the sense that I’m leading the kind of life I have always hoped for.
I’ve gotten used to the rhythms of my new town. I know how many people I’m likely to encounter on a walk in the park, and which streets are empty of cars (the ones that don’t lead to the grocery or hardware stores). The adjustment has been so easy that I feel as if I’ve always lived here. It’s not even unusual for me to go several hours without remembering there’s a pandemic on.
I couldn’t help but remember the other night, though, after I took a drive through another downtown. This is a place stuffed with as much culture as can possibly fit in a small Wisconsin village. I’ve spent my share of time and money there on beautiful spring days like this one. But that evening as I passed through, I found it completely deserted. I felt shock and disappointment not unlike what I experienced when I lived up north and we’d get blizzards in late May.
Confronted once again with our historic crisis, I was reminded of the need for action. Adjusting to my new routine is the very least I can do to protect my friends and family. And to all of you in your own new routines and smaller spheres of movement: thank you. By giving up some of your old ways, you are protecting the community of which you are a part.
Love to you all, until we meet again.