From my spot in my bed where I have been stationed for two days, I have a nice view of the street below and the house across the street. I've been in bed since Saturday, when all the covid symptoms started, but more on that later.
As I look out the window today, I see my neighbor standing in the frame of her front door. Peering through sheets of rain plummeting from the gray sky, and I can see her silhouette leaning against the frame of the doorway, looking down at the phone in her hand.
I know she is leaning in that doorway because the cell service in this town is notoriously bad, especially when there is inclement weather. I remember one summer night standing in my front yard, frantically yelling into my phone with the on call doctor as thunderstorms rolled in. My first child was young, and had a chest cold, and wasn't breathing well. Service cut in and out, and I remember trying first from the yard, and then driving into town to be able to have enough bars to talk.
And so she stands there now, propped up against the door frame on this gray day, a perfect image of forlorn isolation. The whole scene makes me feel incredibly lonely, in fact, I feel the strange mix of alone-ness and togetherness we all feel right now. I'm alone, sick in my bed, reading and binge watching, and she is alone in her doorway, scrolling through her phone, taking a quiet moment away from the chaos of parenting or the hell they call "distance learning'. She's right there, like I could almost yell to her (if the rain weren't pounding so hard), and yet we are living in our own little bubbles, isolated in our family units, each staring at our own screens to keep us connected and keep us from losing our minds.
Like so many neighbors and friends: alone together.
VT Cases: 748
US Cases: 586,748
As I look out the window today, I see my neighbor standing in the frame of her front door. Peering through sheets of rain plummeting from the gray sky, and I can see her silhouette leaning against the frame of the doorway, looking down at the phone in her hand.
I know she is leaning in that doorway because the cell service in this town is notoriously bad, especially when there is inclement weather. I remember one summer night standing in my front yard, frantically yelling into my phone with the on call doctor as thunderstorms rolled in. My first child was young, and had a chest cold, and wasn't breathing well. Service cut in and out, and I remember trying first from the yard, and then driving into town to be able to have enough bars to talk.
And so she stands there now, propped up against the door frame on this gray day, a perfect image of forlorn isolation. The whole scene makes me feel incredibly lonely, in fact, I feel the strange mix of alone-ness and togetherness we all feel right now. I'm alone, sick in my bed, reading and binge watching, and she is alone in her doorway, scrolling through her phone, taking a quiet moment away from the chaos of parenting or the hell they call "distance learning'. She's right there, like I could almost yell to her (if the rain weren't pounding so hard), and yet we are living in our own little bubbles, isolated in our family units, each staring at our own screens to keep us connected and keep us from losing our minds.
Like so many neighbors and friends: alone together.
VT Cases: 748
US Cases: 586,748
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