I barely took any pictures this week. This is getting old. At the same time, I can tell we’re settling in. This week was supposed to be our spring break. We didn’t have any huge plans, just some loose talks about a day trip that never even had time to take shape before the quarantine
Week three, the week I realized I can’t make the entire quarantine special for them. I can’t make it special for me, either. Three weeks ago when this whole thing started, we were still operating under a bit of naivety. School had been closed for two weeks, and I, ever the realist, told friends, “I’m
We celebrated two friends’ birthdays this week. They were both distant celebrations — gifts left in the driveway, and a drive-by “party.” My kids liked loved being a part of these celebrations, but they made the wheels start turning. “I’m glad my birthday is in the summer…” I heard someone say from the backseat on
Thomas was at the counter struggling with scissors. I watched him for a bit, then I offered to help. Thomas watched me easily cut what he’d been struggling with and asked, “Why did they work for you and not for me?” “Because I’ve been using scissors for more years than you’ve been alive,” I answered
Pictures keep coming out of people on the beach for spring break. And before that, partying on St. Patrick’s Day. Every time I see one, I have to step away from my computer and take some deep breaths. I haven’t left my house since last Friday, since I only have the view from the inside
Remember a week ago, when our kids were in school and we were carrying on with reckless behavior, like chatting over coffee or holding the door for strangers. Everything has changed, and in the past week the nation has quietly walked inside and closed their doors. (And then there are people who aren’t staying home.