We Hit a Coronavirus Pothole

Wow, this lookingintherearviewmirror road trip has encountered unprecedented potholes! We hit a doozer that has rattled our teeth and changed the course of our travels. Last week we were packed in here like sardines, and I couldn’t hear myself think with all the chattering. Now I’m traveling by myself with just my thoughts, and even they are the recommended six feet away.

I figured with a little hand sanitizer we could still keep going, but there’s no sanitizer to be had! Then someone sneezed! Ack! Take your temperature! Pass the tissues! Wait…what? No tissues either?

I’m in shock. Denise bailed on me faster than I could say ‘coronavirus.’ Sandy was nothing but a wisp of dust in my rearviewmirror. I’m left picking up an empty bag of chips and my scattered emotions. The earth has shifted, and I’m stunned and discombobulated. What just happened?

Schools closed and toilet paper became like gold. Things are changing daily, hourly, and I’m wobbling unsecured on an undulating surface. Whooooaaa! My head is spinning. I grip the steering wheel and head for my grounding place, my port in a storm: home and Canadian Man.

I begin buying canned vegetables and vitamins. I begin spraying hard surfaces with disinfectant. I begin to go crazy.

I can’t go out to eat. I can’t go to the dentist. I can’t even go to church. I can’t understand. I read too many COVID-19 updates and become distressed.

I can’t sleep not knowing what tomorrow will bring. Will we be in lockdown? Will someone I love become ill? Will I contract coronavirus? What should I do?

Feeling a deep longing for a peace I lost somewhere between sanity and chaos, I brew a coffee and allow my rocker to go slowly back and forth and back and forth. Buzzing like agitated bees, my mind goes back and forth and back and forth. Did I buy enough rice? What will we do if I can’t buy toilet paper? Should I buy cough medicine just in case?? I miss the confidence of a predictable tomorrow.

Canadian Man whistles a melody that flies in the face of my turmoil. He just spent the last four hours literally bathing in COVID-19 news. Does it not bother him? Does he even realize how serious this is? How can he whistle as if it’s just an ordinary day? My electrical engineer seems to have a lightning rod firmly in place deflecting negative zaps.

Suddenly, I remember the meme I saw the other day where Charlie Brown, sitting side-by-side with Snoopy on a dock, says, “The world is suddenly crazy.” Snoopy calmly replies, “Good thing God is the same yesterday, today and forever.”

I’ve forgotten for a moment that I don’t need to stress. There is a much wiser Navigator whose plan and path is perfect. There is a much deeper meaning and purpose to all this than toilet paper. I can let go of the steering wheel and trust in the One in control.

Stores and schools may be closed. Travel is canceled. However, if I’m not tying myself in knots, I can see what IS rather than what isn’t. Life may have taken a serious turn, but smiles aren’t deleted; we can still laugh. Happiness isn’t canceled. Love and kindness blossom a brighter color within the new normal. Generosity spreads like lovely watercolor pastels when we think beyond our desires and reach out to our elderly quarantined neighbor.

Families are spending quality time together. Siblings are walking in nature and jumping on the trampoline. Creativity is reborn to dig out canvas and paints. It’s a chance to reflect. A time to embrace the basics and clear out the anarchy of too much. Too much stuff, too much running, too little time.

My rocker stops as thoughts wash through me. I sense a hush, a quietness, a waiting. Is it an astute design to make us pause to listen and learn what’s important in life? Is it a time to embrace hope, optimism, gratitude, appreciation and connection? Is it a chance to find our lightning rod?

I take my empty coffee cup to the sink. My anxiety has quieted. My mind has stilled. This isn’t the first crisis in my life nor in the world. We will come through the other side with a new perspective.

I’m tearing the pages out of the old Sears and Robuck catalogue. You know, just in case. The catalogue worked for grandma; it’ll work now. (Good thing I never threw it out!) If you run out of tp, I’ll share. Then when we can sneeze in public again without causing WWIII, we’ll pack ham buns and pickles and load up the roadster once again. In the meantime, I’ll look in the rearview mirror from home. But, I miss you!