New Normal. Old Hope.

I almost lost my words when I read my last entry here written a little over a week ago. It was so normal, simple, hopeful. It stuns me how quickly things can change. Last week I was planning parties. This week I'm planning for quarantine. Life right now feels a little surreal. I'm struggling with a new normal and with having hope just like everyone else in the world.

I steered clear of the news this weekend and that alleviated a great deal of my anxiety, but I knew relief was temporary. I'm a news enthusiast. It was only a matter of time before I tuned in. Last night as a matter of fact. I also knew when I returned, the coverage wouldn't be uplifting or calming. No, it's downright scary on so many different levels.

This is a lifetime event. We will define things before and after. There will be an after. I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but there will be life after this virus. Good, prosperous, happy life.

I'm reminded of the unfamiliar, anxious time post 911. It was inconceivable that we would ever recover. It seemed impossible that we would laugh and smile and trust and travel. I couldn't fathom feeling safe ever again. I felt crushing sadness for this country, the staggering loss of lives and the lost innocence for our children.

Teddy was 9 months old when those planes were used as lethal weapons. The day after the attack, I was home with him. It was a beautiful day. The sky was the most pristine shade of blue. It was the color of hope if ever there was one, but I couldn't look up without feeling despair. When I visited the 911 Museum with Lily a couple years ago, the exhibit that had the most impact on me was Trying to Remember the Color of the Sky on That September Morning. The 2,983 squares of blue, one for each victim, took my breath away. Standing there looking at the central wall, I remembered the sky on that day. I mourned the toll that 911 took on our country, but I also felt incredible pride for our people. The strength and courage and tenacity. The tenderness, togetherness and troth.

I'm finding comfort in remembering those feelings of dignity and honor, in reminding myself that we will bounce back stronger than before and that life will likely be a little different, but it will still be good and always precious.

I'm finding comfort in spending time in my kitchen listening to music instead of the news. Mike and I made quite a feast for our Saturday night soiree. Our Reuben egg rolls were ridiculously delish and much easier than I anticipated. Our Irish Stew was a hit and the mashed potatoes were gone. The Chocolate Stout Cake is almost gone. Alan and I had pieces with our coffee this morning and it was the perfect St Paddy's Day treat. It's the gift that keeps giving. Unfortunately, my dad and Judy decided to stay home, but I think it was the smart thing to do. Sunday Mike and Lily did a surprise visit to drop off Judy's gifts and leftovers for dinner that night. They were so happy for the act of kindness and these are exactly the times we should be practicing them. The world needs every little act of good will and grace we can offer right now.

While they were out playing Santa and Mrs. Claus, I started stock for Chicken Soup, got a batch of bread dough proofing and whipped up a batch of Strawberry Cream Cupcakes for Linda's birthday celebration the next day. It was my first time making these fresh cuties, but it won't be my last. They were insanely yummy. And the bowl of homemade soup with a hunk of warm bread was the perfect comfort food for the times that night. Alan and I will be having that for lunch today too. We're holding down the fort at work without too much to do, but this too shall pass.

I'm finding comfort in spending time with family and friends. We hung out on Friday night with a small group of friends and while there was talk of the virus, it was only one topic of the evening. The guys went out to pick up fish fries at a local restaurant and came back saying it was hopping. Less than a week later, they're mostly shuttered. It's the right thing to do. Our kids were all out. Is that the right thing to do? Time will tell. All I know is that I felt less isolated and pessimistic after being with other people. We'll continue to allow for small gatherings in non-public spaces until we are told otherwise.

I stopped at the store yesterday out of curiosity and also to pick up a few things I needed...mainly baking supplies after my weekend of cake making. I succeeded and I also came home with a few things I probably didn't need, but I am only so strong. I left the Kleenex and TP for those who really need them. I would have bought chicken if they had it. Oh well, these are times for making do and what we are facing day to day are small sacrifices in this family. I have to say that shopping made me feel better. People were respectful and calm. No one was hoarding or hysterical. I felt thankful for the cashiers. They are in public facing positions and they are taking risks when they come to work. I felt worried for the number of elderly people who were out and about when they should be home. I wanted to take their numbers and offer to do their shopping until the coast is clear. I didn't, but I will reach out to neighbors who I know to be at high risk. Every little bit helps.

It's hard not to be all about ourselves right now. During threatening times, our worlds shrink. We worry about our needs, our loved ones, our trials, but the truth is that by reaching out in whatever way we are comfortable, we dispel a little bit of doubt and despair. We give, we receive. Kindness begets kindness. Good deeds inspire more good deeds. Consideration incites hope and faith. These are the things the world needs right now. Spread love not fear. Be the light. Don't give in to the darkness.