Dispatches From Home: Day 7 & 8

I didn’t post an update yesterday because we ate too much Indian food and fell asleep on the couch. It mostly felt like a normal Friday night, which was a nice break for a little while.

extended long weekend let’s gooo #lakesofcanada.jpg
Taking the train to visit my sister in August 2018.

We had to go by our old apartment to drop off our keys this morning because our lease there ends next week. My relationship to time has changed so drastically recently. It feels like months have gone by, but we only moved four weeks ago! I don’t understand. I’ve said it a million times this week, but I’m so glad we were able to finish moving in before everything really started ramping up. That’s the game I’ve been playing all week — “well, at least this, well at least that, we’re lucky, it could be worse.” It’s true, of course, but it doesn’t always make it easier to live with.

The border with the US closed last night. Today, after dropping off some items in Adrian’s parents’ garage and waving hello to them from a safe distance, we drove past a completely full grocery store parking lot. Maybe some people still don’t getting it, or maybe they figure that it’s been long enough and they can afford to stand close to other shoppers again, but all I could think was: we are going to exist in this hell forever.

After we locked up our old apartment for the last time, I stood in our driveway and listened to the woodpecker that lives in a neighbouring tree, a sound I’ve heard a million times over the past seven years. I cried for a long time. Everything looked like how we left it a month ago, but we don’t live in that place anymore; we don’t even live in that world anymore.

Maybe it’ll be be easier tomorrow, but it hurts today. Tell me what you’ve been up to?

The Disorienting Thing Is You Can’t Compare This To Anything (Buzzfeed)

The next month will, by definition, be intense: isolated and constrained in space, accentuated by the strain of illness or joblessness or the potential for them. There’s really no way this won’t be a time etched into everyone’s memory for the rest of their lives — where the streets of major cities turn into the almost soundless retreats of daytime walkers. And just as you might be able to map out in memory your childhood bedroom, wherever you are right now and remain, this image and the everyday dynamic in that space will likely live forever.