Changes: Turn and Face the Strange

It’s the last day of April 2020, and we’ve been living in this strange sci-fi reality for weeks.  New information on coronavirus is constantly changing.  There are whispers of over 30 different strains of Covid-19 circulating throughout the country.  There are discussions about whether or not reinfection is possible and if those who’ve had the virus have built immunity.  The CDC just added a new symptom: loss of smell or taste.  Seriously?  What is that?

My children opened a package of cloth face masks from our foster agency and spent the rest of the day running around the living room playing tag with their new masks.  We tried to shelter the kids from the world events for as long as we could, but we haven’t left the house in over six weeks.  Eventually, there needs to be an explanation as to why they can’t see their friends and family.

Today I watched from the doorway as my 6-year-old son walked down our dirt driveway to get the mail.  He stopped at the end of the driveway and stared off down the street for a few moments.  Then he yelled over his shoulder that there was a woman walking her dog down the road.  He wanted to know what he should do because he “didn’t want to get sick.”  This is our new normal.

The virus has brought out so many different emotions.  A friend alluded to the “freshman 15” by talking about how she’s been gaining the “Covid-19,” which I found both humorous and painfully accurate.  I’ve been stress baking, engaging in pointless social media debates, and making a hobby out of buying random items online.  And I’m struggling with wanting all this to end, but also hoping it drags out indefinitely because once it’s safe to do so, the kids will start transitioning back home.

I’m not really sure how to cope with everything changing all at once.  We’re facing a global crisis, and then there’s the finish line for my little family in sight.  Foster care was always isolating, but now I’m imagining the kids leaving without last playdates with friends, without hugs from grandparents and one last getaway trip.  We weren’t meant to live in isolation.  We weren’t meant to say goodbye and grieve in isolation.