Lockdown Day 8

It’s my fourth day working from home.  All inquiries are treated like gold.  I savour the words and linger over every reply.  I see every email as an invitation from the outside world to reach out and engage.

My sons are not fighting.  The key, my husband discovered, was to quietly tell each of them to treat the other as if the other has special needs. 

It being such a beautiful morning, the first thing I did was to drag the clothes horse out into the garden.   Several hours later, my son appears in the kitchen and panics, “But what if it rains?”

“It’s not forecast.”

“But it’s all my stuff out there.”

“Bring it in then.”  He does.  Returning to the kitchen, he says, “There’s no heat in that sun anyway.”

“The fresh air will kill the bugs.”

Then he announced, “We need to clean the filter in the washing machine.”

“I already did it.”

“What……., but that’s my day's goal gone.”

I had to get out of the house.     

At lunch time I drove to the Supervalu in Glanmire.  I regard it as the Harrods of Cork: it has everything quirky, artisan and local and it’s the only shop within driving distance that sells Rooibus with Caramel tea - the apple pie and ice-cream of teabags.  I drink it when I want a treat but not the calories.

‘Will I remember how to drive?’ I wondered as I slid into the driver’s seat for the first time in a week.  It was a classic March day; sunny but cold.  The roads had finally dried out and the hedgerows were ever so slowly starting to green up. 

I’m always forced to park on the roof but on this day there were tons of spaces.  I parked near the lift doors and the hand sanitiser.  There were more hand sanitisers at the shop entrance, the exit and alcohol wipes by the trollies.  Wiping down my trolley I bumped into my friend, Maria.  We were excited to see each other but managed to resist the urge to hug.   We agreed to shop quickly and meet for coffee after.  As we entered the doors, I admired the impressive display of bouquets and potted plants for Mother’s Day.   “Get them here,” said Maria, “they’re cheaper than the florist.” 

After dumping our shopping into our cars and grabbing a Frank & Honest coffee each, we walked, a metre apart, the circuit of Glanmire village.  We passed – giving them wide berth – mothers walking their children, older men with their dogs, everyone of them taking advantage of the dry day.  Maria seemed to know everyone.  

We sat on a wall – a metre apart - by the side of the road sipping our coffees.  We only lasted 15 minutes in the cold wind.  I wore the scarf I brought back for my mother from Nepal.  She keeps leaving it in my car.  It has the texture of a cobweb and so I had doubts about its quality when I bought it. Yet, it is so delicate and non-intrusive, I forgot I was still wearing it when I went to bed.  On removing it, my neck felt immediately exposed and I shivered.  She’s not getting it back.