Tonight
dear friends were to come for a distanced happy hour. While I have been quite
content working away in quarantine, I have missed my friends who used to come
frequently for happy hour. I’m sort of a shy person but also one who feeds on
people, and prolonged solitude is hard for me. Thank goodness for Jordan and
her family
It’s a
long, tangled story but the people who were to come tonight are special. She is
like another of my children, albeit just a couple of years older—she calls
herself my Canadian daughter. And she is married to a wonderful man I adore.
They had wanted to come earlier, but when we found out they had been to a
restaurant, we cancelled and rescheduled. I guess knowing everyone else’s doings
is one of the problems of social media. She did explain they were twelve feet
from anyone else and the waiter wore mask and gloves.
So
tonight we were all spiffed up. I was
not in my usual T-shirt and leggings, Jordan rearranged the patio for distanced
seating, and Christian came home early. And there we sat—5:30, 6:00, 6:30—enjoying
each other’s company. We went inside—and let me mention the patio was
uncomfortably warm tonight, first time this spring for that. At any rate, I
emailed and got a quick answer. There had been a mix-up. She didn’t think I had
confirmed, and she knew we were nervous about visitors and could we reschedule.
One of
the downsides of the evening was that Jordan and I had planned carefully and
had a dinner that could be served quickly after guests left. We opened a
prepared jar of spaghetti sauce—shhh!—and doctored it with olive oil, garlic,
herbs, and anchovy paste. It seemed a
shame to waste it on a night when we could have easily cooked. But it was good,
and we enjoyed it served over buttered linguine with lots of parmesan.
But
the evening points up the difficulty of entertaining these days. Much as we
love and trust our friends, we are not ready to invite them into either the
main house or the cottage with some screening. It’s a truism that just because
we have known them for years and love them does not mean that they could not be
silent, asymptomatic carriers of the virus. And yet, isn’t it awful to screen your
friends? Another friend was to come Thursday night to the patio but wrote to
say her sister would be arriving that day and was it okay to bring her. The
note came with assurance that if we said no, she’d understand. And we did reluctantly
say, “Let’s reschedule.” The sister would undoubtedly be flying in, and we aren’t
ready for that second-hand exposure.
We have
been waiting to have several other friends over, though Jordan says we can only
have two at a time—space doesn’t allow distancing for more. She and Christian have
had a few friends over for happy hour on the front porch, but that only works
if the guests are willing to respect the distancing rules. Before all this,
Christian entertained clients at happy hour several times a week, and he has
now tried to move a bit of taht to the porch at a much reduced rate.
Through
all of this, Jordan is most protective of me. Her reasoning is that her mom is
eighty-one and vulnerable and she isn’t taking chances. I am beyond grateful
for all she does to allow me to stay in solitary comfort and safety. I know
some think we are being over-protective, but it’s what we are comfortable with.
A dear
friend said to me, via telephone, the other day that she has lived a good life
and is not afraid to die. She is close to my age though not quite as old. Good
heavens, I’m beginning to think few are as old. Anyway, my response was that I
am not sure if I am afraid to die or
not, but I know two things: I am enjoying my life as it is so much that I am
not willing to risk it, and I definitely do not want to risk the agonies of an
extreme case of COVID-19. Yes, some cases are mild, but others are excruciating,
and we have all read or heard the stories. Take, for instance, Chris Cuomo’s
account of his long and difficult battle.
Sorry,
but we’re going to continue to be over-careful. If you’re close to me and want
to visit, I hope you understand that I too long to see you, but I’m not taking
chances. Someday this will pass, and I intend to be here, hale and hearty and
looking forward to enjoying a glass of wine with you.
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