{"id":120,"date":"2020-04-25T00:17:06","date_gmt":"2020-04-25T00:17:06","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/wordpress.kpu.ca\/arley\/?p=120"},"modified":"2020-04-25T00:17:06","modified_gmt":"2020-04-25T00:17:06","slug":"friday-april-24th","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wordpress.kpu.ca\/arley\/2020\/04\/25\/friday-april-24th\/","title":{"rendered":"Friday, April 24th"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

One of the things I admire about my students’ Coronavirus archives are how positive they are. Some are funny, some are filled with gratitude, some are focused on what they’ll do when they’re able to have some semblance of normalcy. But I’m old and grumpy, and am having a harder time being positive. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

For a few weeks, things were difficult. Then, I hit my stride. I made a lot of bread and muffins. And now, I’ve reached a point where things feel so far off that I don’t want anything. Last night, I was craving a wedge salad with lots of blue cheese and bacon and it just seemed impossible that I would sit in a restaurant and cut through the crisp layers of lettuce with a fork, and hold up a glass of wine. I tried to imagine myself at The Keg and I just couldn’t do it. And it’s only been 6 weeks. I’m going to need a little more imagination to fuel me through this crisis. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Although, who knows what restaurants will survive this, or if the idea of going to restaurants will survive. When will people get comfortable with the idea of being around other people? When and if the restaurants open, will people find them too loud? Will they flinch when the wait staff bends over their table to refill a water glass? Will we go out for dinner with another couple and find ourselves with nothing to say? <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I especially worry about my toddler. Yesterday was sunny, and everywhere was packed. I tried one park: too busy. Tried another: too busy. I thought I’d found one that was not very busy, but we were soon joined by a four-year-old, who ran up to my daughter and tried to give her a handful of grass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My daughter stared at her. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Make tea?” she said finally.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Okay,” said the girl. “Let’s make tea.” <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Normally, I would swoop in immediately and enforce the distance, or the other parent would, but for a second I watched them bending down together to stir their grass into ‘tea.’ And then I had to break it up. “Let’s move a little over here,” I said. “You guys can play tea, but just a little further apart.” A little further apart. A little bit more distance. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Either option ends in guilt. Don’t break up their playtime soon enough, and I’ve exposed my daughter to the virus. Flash forward 4 weeks and I could be in hospital — or worse! She could be in hospital! — thinking about that moment when the virus passed between them, calculating how much my weakness had cost. But break up too soon, and my daughter will grow wary of children and see them as a threat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She was so overjoyed to see another child. “Hi kid!” she kept saying. She followed her around the entire time we were at the park, as I hovered, the ultimate helicopter mom, trying to keep the space between them. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I’d just watched Dr. Bonnie Henry talking on TV about holding the line, keeping the firewall strong, but it’s hard to keep up your energy to fight an invisible threat. It’s so easy to think: well, what’s the harm? They’re kids. Let them make teas and poultices out of grass and mud. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then, we went into a community garden, and a little boy came over and crouched beside my daughter to explain that she was looking at rhubarb. “You can touch the leaves,” he said, “They’re soft.” And she did so, gently stroking the plant. Then, she touched his hair, as if she wasn’t quite sure he was real, and I worked to keep them apart. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I’m trying,” said the dad. “It’s just –.” He was chasing after the boy’s sibling. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

“I know,” I said. “I’m trying too.” <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"A
“Put the rock to bed. Give the rock a bottle. Goodnight rock. I love you.”<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

One of the things I admire about my students’ Coronavirus archives are how positive they are. Some are funny, some are filled with gratitude, some are focused on what they’ll do when they’re able to have some semblance of normalcy. But I’m old and grumpy, and am having a harder time being positive. For a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":128,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-120","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wordpress.kpu.ca\/arley\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/120","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wordpress.kpu.ca\/arley\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wordpress.kpu.ca\/arley\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wordpress.kpu.ca\/arley\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/128"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wordpress.kpu.ca\/arley\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=120"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/wordpress.kpu.ca\/arley\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/120\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":122,"href":"https:\/\/wordpress.kpu.ca\/arley\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/120\/revisions\/122"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wordpress.kpu.ca\/arley\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=120"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wordpress.kpu.ca\/arley\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=120"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wordpress.kpu.ca\/arley\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=120"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}