Even in quarantine, we’ve been busy. It’s just a different kind of busy, is all.

Before this all started, I spent hours in my car, driving all over the city as I ferried my youngest from her classes at the community college, to her enrichment program, to any one of a half dozen orchestra rehearsals or performances, to friends’ houses, or dentist appointments, etc etc etc. I’ve done this for years now, and for the last couple of years, since I started working again, I drag a laptop with me and, wherever I had to take my youngest, I’d find some wifi, log in, and keep on working. My car isn’t even six years old yet, but already I hit 100,000 miles, just before the pandemic hit and everything… stopped.

For more than two months now, instead of that nonstop, face-paced, let’s-get to-the-next-thing kind of zooming around, I’ve just been home, with the family, working from the same location every single day, instead of having to jump locations every few hours, logging off and on again as the day progressed. I get up, drink coffee, do some writing, have a light breakfast, and the log on to work for whatever comes my way. My office is near the girls’ bedrooms, so during the school week, I’d start knocking on their doors around 10:00 with the goal of getting them both up and downstairs for their own coffee by 11:00 am. Then they’d take care of their online coursework while my husband and I kept on working from our own respective areas of the house. As I passed the kids in the hallway or in the kitchen I’d ask them if they were on track with their classes, their assignments, and then last week, with their finals. At some point during the day, I’d break from work to get a little exercise in, have some lunch, take a shower. I haven’t been providing breakfast or lunch to the household, since everyone is on such different sleep and work schedules, but I make dinner every night. We all usually watch something on TV together while we eat these days. We finally bit the bullet and purchased a few streaming channels when the stay-at-home order started, and since then we’ve been through the Mandalorian, Picard, and most of Star Trek Discovery. Lately we’ve been on another MST3K kick.

So the days have passed somewhat quickly. Somewhere in the middle of the blur of these ten weeks, we’ve hit some milestones: my 16yo turned 17; my husband (Joe) and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary. A few days after Colorado changed from the stay-at-home to safer-at-home order, we snuck out of town for a week to celebrate this. We drove to western Colorado to upgrade to a new larger RV, and then we spent a quiet, very careful week at a private campground where we stayed away from everyone and did a little hiking and fishing.

I can’t believe it’s been more than two months since I’ve had to do my crazy driving schedule — the thing that’s been my “normal” for several years now. In the middle of the school year, just before Christmas, I found myself burning out on the driving, and really looking forward to my youngest getting her driver’s license — an end to me having to spend half my day behind the wheel. And then, wouldn’t you know it? A pandemic hit, and I got my wish earlier than expected. By the time this thing is over, my youngest will be driving on her own, and chances are, I’ll be able to maintain this new normal of somewhat quiet days at home. I suppose I should knock on wood, having said that. After all: you never do know what the day, or the year, will bring.

I see online all sorts of drama about people demanding an end to the stay at home orders. People believing and spreading all sorts of conspiracy theories, quack remedies, furious diatribes, equally furious and fervent prayers, hateful rhetoric paired next to kind and generous moments, all of it playing out on social media in such a way that only makes me want to not participate anymore, and to not be surprised that we are where we are as a nation. We’re getting what we paid for it seems. And what we paid for seems to have been nothing but bullshit snake oil and delusions of grandeur. So, I find myself online less and less. Instead I’ve buried myself in this new busy life of working from home, working in my yard, rediscovering reading actual paper books, working on my own writing, going to sleep at a somewhat decent hour, getting up and doing it all over again.

And now spring is here at last, the girls are done with school, and things are greening and warming up, even way up here at 7400 feet. We spent Sunday working in our long-neglected back yard where we’ll be putting in a few raised beds for some vegetables this year. When we lived in Pennsylvania, I had a large, gorgeous garden, and I’ve missed it. I was hesitant to try gardening here where the season is short and I’ve watched the local wildlife devour my neighbor’s attempt at a veggie patch. But the pandemic has changed even my thoughts on this, and back in March we drew up a rough plan for raised beds protected by mesh fencing, to prevent deer and rabbits from raiding them. My husband is behind schedule building the beds, but he’s got the girls helping him now, and one is ready enough for planting so I can get started. Everyone says they’re looking forward to homegrown salads again. Hopefully, we’ll have a good year for it.

Every day, I remind myself how fortunate we are here at my house, to still be working, to not be sick, to be living this different, but much welcomed, kind of busy.