Sandwiches

Community on the Rise. 

Church of the Reconciler.

One Roof. 

Americorps Volunteers. 

John Brown. 

The Homeless.

There are STILL community members who don't know the symptoms of the Corona Virus and are still hungry.

I gloved up, then double gloved, and made sandwiches and delivered around town today, joining with the above mentioned organizations. I felt guilty and liberated - at the same time.

I did not wear a mask, and felt guilty and liberated.

I met new people, hugged no one and sorted rotten apples. I felt guilty and liberated.

I thought, if we are all going to get this virus, I want to go down with a fever...not with fear.

First Wednesday, Corona Virus, The Picnic

Successful picnic.

Henry strums the acoustic.

Svea and her book.

Corinne roller blades.

I watch the clouds move slowly. 

Breathe in and breathe out.

Mama J Through the Window

Dear Mama J, 

You can't have any visitors right now at Fair Haven. Thank heavens you are out of rehab and can have a phone in your room. I want to call you every day.

I hate this pandemic so much. 

I wonder if you could die faster from this virus, or from this isolation? The phone and people and relationships and laughter are your entire life. Now you have a TV and a phone. A few visits from a nurse. What if you fall? What if you sit in your diaper too long?

You are almost 95yo - all these years, did you live so fully only to die alone? You rely on all things social. Now you are by yourself.

So we made signs. And stood out side your third storey window. I called you and asked you to walk to the window so we could wave and I could see your face. I thought it was such a good idea...

...but I didn't think about the fact that the path from your chair to the window might not be clear. That your phone might not reach that far. That you would remember to use your walker and remember that your life-line button was around your neck. I didn't think about all that in my frantic need to see you.

And as I write this, everything is fine and all is well. You are laughing that when I called, you forgot your lunch was on your lap and you stood up to come to the window and your butterbeans went all over the floor. You said you didn't like those butterbeans anyway. And you laughed your old familiar laugh - it didn't sound dry or make you cough.

(that's your hand waving)

But there was a scary moment when you wanted to get back to your chair and couldn't figure out how to balance yourself. You couldn't think through putting the phone down so you could use both hands. I was watching through the window and was horrified that maybe I had walked you straight into your next fall...and possibly the situation that would end your life. 

The staff in the parking lot promised they would send someone to check on you and we waited 5 breathless minutes and called you again. You were back in your chair, watching TV, and Gloria had already come to check on you. You were laughing at all the butterbeans on your floor.

I am so grateful you are alive. I am so sorry it has to be so far away from others.

(your face)

I love you, Mama J, 

Mollie Lane

First Tuesday, Corona Virus

3.17.2020

I did not hug anyone all day.

I cleaned and washed and organized.

I asked my newly 16yo child to drive me to a gym where we could arrange food donations into piles.

We wore gloves and did not get near people.

We left before food distribution to families experiencing food insecurity.

This feels so horrible.