“It’s a good thing we get along,” I said to my husband.
Think of it: cooped up in an apartment—small apartment—all day, all afternoon, all evening, all night; day after day; week after week; we could easily enter the conflict zone. One room: he wants to watch the evening news on TV, I want to read in a quiet space. That alone is a recipe for a tempest-in-an-apartment. Or how about this: I like the spices organized by ‘ground’ vs. ‘whole’; he organizes them by size. It’s a good thing we get along. Actually, it’s a blessing.
It’s a blessing that we have each other. Some of my nearest and dearest live alone. They were doing fine until the lock-down. Now they feel isolated. I wish I could give them a hug. But a video call is the closest I can get. That is what I spend most of my time doing. The time I used to spend reading and writing, now I spend connecting with family and friends. Once upon a time, I would send off an email, or text, at the most say ‘Happy Birthday’ on a group chat and be done with it. Now its phone calls, WhatsApp video chats, Zoom sessions. By the evening, I am zoomed-out. People I hadn’t spoken to in years: guess what! On Sunday, we had an across the world WebEx session with family from Pakistan, Dubai, New York, New Jersey and San Francisco; across 12 time zones: 9 am in California and 9 pm in Pakistan. Some were having breakfast, others dinner. We had never done that. Little cousins seeing each other for the first time, waving shyly; uncles and aunts pointing out a new beard, thinning hair, balding head. This weekend, one of my Homec college friends connected six of us on Houseparty. One of them who had downsized and moved into an apartment, gave us a virtual tour of her new abode and the view of Lake Ontario from her balcony. On Saturday mornings, we Zoomed with our children and grandchildren. Speaking of Zoom, all my interfaith meetings have transitioned to Zoom meetings, even the bookclubs. It’s exhilarating and exhausting. I can take credit for Zoom stocks soaring to record levels. Every morning I make a list of all the people I am going to call. I seldom get voicemail. Isn’t it wonderful to hear their voices!
Had I ever appreciated what a luxury it was to just step out and get a carton of milk; as in: whenever I needed it. Now we have to schedule a delivery and getting a delivery slot is a huge challenge. After repeated failed attempts with Whole Foods and Fresh Direct, we finally got a delivery date, only to learn on the day of delivery, that Instacart staff was going on strike. I am running out of milk. But that’s o.k. We are all in this together. We will do without milk until the matter is settled. Who knows when that will be, but what I do know is that my neighbors and friends are going to be calling, offering to help. Not a day goes by when I don’t get an offer. Just a reminder that I am a senior citizen. But seriously, that is the spirit that is floating in the air along with the virus. Our apartment building has turned into a food/walk-the-dog/run-your-errand co-op. Neighbors are becoming neighborly; friends are becoming friendlier; and the arm of the helping hand is extending further and further.
Another unexpected: We have graduated from grandparents to grand teachers. My husband conducts daily Facetime classes with our 8-year old and 10-year old granddaughter; and I teach my 16-year old granddaughter the Urdu language. Works out for everyone: for work-at-home mom and dad, children are being supervised by grandparents; and us being useful and loving it. That’s the other thing: family time. When was the last time parents and children were home, working and schooling out of home? Or having dinner together every evening? Must make for special bonding moments, and some freaking out too.
My husband has found a new hobby. He is blogging on medical topics for laypeople. Of course, the recent blogs are on coronavirus. Check it out: khalid.simplysays.com
And to avoid apartment-fever, every afternoon at 3 pm, we walk up to the rooftop. I said walk up—7 flights. Doing brisk walking on our rooftop, overlooking a splatter of carriage-houses and tall apartment buildings, we take in the fresh air and sunshine. That’s our treat for the day.
Last night I was telling my husband:
“I am grateful we have electricity;
I am grateful we have water;
I am grateful we have food in the fridge;
I am grateful we have a roof over our head;
I am grateful we have each other;
And I am so grateful we have Wi-Fi.”
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