Snapshots:

Normally I am caught off guard by the sudden onset of Spring but it turns out it advances in waves. Have I ever been in a position to track so closely the creeping progress of bare branches to buds to shoots to soft fresh green leaves? I stand under trees and look up and feel something inside me settle and calm.

Back inside I bargain with myself over twitter, cigarettes, red wine, bourbon, chocolate, netflix, cheese. Time runs simultaneously too fast and too slow. Outside is hope. I can't resist gently cradling the tulips and the soft clouds of fuchsia azaleas. One day a fierce gale turns the cherry blossoms into a river of pink streaming down the street. I sit on a stoop and watch whirling dervishes of petals.

I tell myself I must go outside every day.

I don't go outside for a few days and slowly lose my mind.

My parents ebb and flow in their reports on following social distancing. I spend days arguing with my dad on the phone and being consumed by anxiety before finally filing it under the ever expanding and depressing list of things I can't control. I look at the places where things are terrible and I feel grateful again. Most of my family is able to stay home. The horror stories are so far hitting friends of friends... no one close to me yet. I anxiously do the rounds of everyone I love who is working in health care, which is a lot of people.

I bake: banana bread, a too-sweet pound cake, brownies. Apple pie and a pear galette from some pastry i made last year and stashed in my freezer.

I cook: black beans, thai soups, big pots of dal and rice. Overnight oats, roasted vegetables, sweet potato fries. I make popcorn on the stove and remember that I hate it with nutritional yeast but I like it with sugar and salt.

I work: oh there's so much to do. Turns out it's a crazy time to be an epidemiologist. People are amazing and inspiring and pulling together so many things under terrible conditions. There are less than 10 ventilators total in some of the countries where I work, an average ratio of 1 ventilator:15-20 million people. I work overtime for days.

I blow off work: I can't get out of bed some days.

I continue to receive a paycheque and every time I check my back account I feel grateful.

I miss my family and I think about quitting and moving back to Canada and know that it's a stupid time and I can't.

I start therapy again, by phone. I try to draw in my book but I can only draw one overlapping circle in various shades of pink and red.

E and are both working from home in this small apartment. I assume that my calls are driving her crazy as hers are driving me crazy. We don't talk about it, just power on. What's to be done? After a few days at the table I set up a workstation in my bedroom and mostly work from there. It's been 6 weeks.

E goes to stay at her boyfriend's every few days and I revel in the space and quiet and then am so grateful when she comes back

I try to chat with some bumble connection on whatsapp and it's fine but also what's the point. I delete bumble.

I call BT. I always thought we would be together for the apocalypse. I miss him desperately and sometimes it is a physical ache. I wonder if this grief is shortening my lifespan. He calls me sometimes too but I am uncomfortably aware that i reach out 5 times (maybe 10?) for every 1 time he reaches out to me. He shows me the 3-D printer he bought. I want to talk about feelings. I keep telling myself that if my (our?) pregnancy and the apocalypse did not bring us back together then nothing will. It's over, I know that. But then I reach out again.

I go to the market with a t shirt tied across my face and make muffled small talk with the vendors in the biting wind. I can't tell if anyone is happy or sad behind their masks [literal masks, not just figurative, as the meme goes. I mentioned twitter? I have a COVID meme for every occasion.]

Once a week I meet J for a socially distant walk. We go pick up a cocktail at some local bar and sit 6 feet apart at a picnic table and it is a highlight of my week. After a decade of traveling, I start to understand what a routine could be like, and how it feels to have a thing one regularly looks forward to.

E comes home one day and asks if I want to make a Grand Easter Feast, and we do, just the two of us. I roast pork for the first time in my life and she makes brownies. I give up on the idea of showering for the occasion but I swap my leggings for jeans. At some point in the afternoon I give her a fierce hug.. we are not much for hugging, but I adore her for the idea of a celebration, though neither of us is religious. I miss touching and being touched.

We smoke a lot of pot and power through a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle in a disturbingly short period of time.

I become reasonably proficient at Wednesday and Thursday crosswords and do far too many.

Our friend J who is in New Orleans (my beloved New Orleans - fucked again) sets up some complicated app that syncs his screen to Es so we can watch a movie together. We set up a skype call at the same time so we can have a running commentary on Nicolas Cage (good or bad?) throughout, like we would if we were together. We do a group call with some friends for Es 39th birthday. We try trivia night with her university friends but we're both bad at it. Still we'll probably do it again because why not.

My extended family comes together for a 9 tile Zoom call on Easter Sunday and it as chaotic and loving as it would have been if we were all together. My brother trash talks with some of the cousins. The kids show us their Easter art. My aunt has a mimosa. My sister sits with her husband and the babies. My brother sits with his wife and their daughter. My cousins and their families, my aunts and uncles, my parents. I am the only one alone. I wonder if they're feeling sorry for me so I tell them about how E and I are preparing the Easter Feast.

I reflect on the lack of change in my life. I spend a lot of time alone, especially since BT and I broke up. I mostly only hang out with J and E anyway. My family and friends are still far away. Sometimes I wallow and sometimes I'm pretty content.

I start running, but I can't seem to get past the 4km mark.

I try to meditate but my brain is buzzing and broken.

E and I take an evening bike ride all around the city - 28 km - and it is so fun that I am on a high for days. We watch the sun setting on the river. It takes so little to be happy, I remind myself. Go outside, I remind myself.

Repeat.

3:43 p.m. - 2020-04-22