It's Come to Howling
This week my hair started to fall out. It didn’t fall out in big chunks or anything, but enough to alert me that things were not all right. Up until now, my anxiety had shown itself as shoulder stiffness and the occasional heart palpitation. But, now my hair was falling out.
So, I decided to give myself some grace.
This is an easy thing to say and a whole other thing to actually practice. Breathing has helped as has the intention to try to live in the moment as much as possible. I keep on reminding myself that there is nothing I can do to fix the ugliness of our current situation, so, I might as well roll with the beautiful bits. After all, I've been given the gift of time with the bonus of spending it with my favorite people. This may never happen like this again.
It's been one month since our family began practicing shelter-in-place. Other than the anxiety (and the constant noise in the news), it's sometimes hard to tell that we're in a crisis. But, everyday little signs show us that this is not normal. Our playgrounds are closed and there are little marks to indicate where we are supposed to stand at the grocery store. In fact, most of our shopping is done out of the store which is probably good because the urge to hug friends is strong these days.
But the normalcy of home is a constant comfort. The backyard is now clear of snow which, thankfully, only took a few days to disappear. And while our sump-pump has been working overtime, the rest of us have enjoyed being able to go outside to enjoy fresh air without the white-stuff (even if it’s a little chilly). After “school” the kids have been venturing outside to play in the dirt, building magical worlds with their toys and engaging in an imaginary battle or two.
Edith was lucky to have two days off from school which meant plenty of quality time with her and our dog Rosie. I'm pretty sure this has been the best month of that dog's life.
And Anton is still happy as can be to be home all the time.
Going through the motions of Easter traditions was such a comfort for us. We decorated cookies, colored Easter eggs and even had a video chat with my parents and brother on Easter Sunday. And I made potato salad for the first time. That was a win.
And then, last night, we ventured outside at 8 pm to hear the howling. A tradition of howling each night at 8 pm which began in the streets of Denver has now made its way to the avenues of Moorhead. Edith brought out her owl whistle and tooted along.
The howling is a curious phenomenon but also cathartic in a primal way. No doubt it's exactly what we need in this strange time.
