I read, work on revising a novel, stream tv series, do Canadian crossword puzzles and Sudoku, bake and eat, do household chores, do yoga, and every day go out and clear more snow. There’s plenty of time for occasional contact with friends and family. Every two weeks I buy groceries.
What I haven’t done for over a week is go for a walk. Others
I know have been diligent in walking nearly every day, and at other times I
would have been, too. In the past, I’ve maneuvered the riverbank trails up to
my knees in snow because the paths hadn’t been cleared yet. I’ve attended
classes, in fact, walked to them and back in extremely cold temperatures.
So far this November is different. Perhaps it’s partly
because of the added stress of Covid 19 – I’m tired of the extra planning
needed to go out. Remembering to take a mask and hand sanitizer, remembering to
put on the mask, remembering to keep my distance from others. I’m not an
anti-masker, believe in the necessity for them to keep all of us safe. I’m
older, too, and have less mental and physical energy to deal with it all,
including a major snow dump on top of everything else.
I haven’t seen my son in person since March, though I saw my
grandson in person twice this summer. I’m warm, housed and fed, still healthy.
I’m luckier than a lot of people.
I’m in hermit and hibernation mode. It happens to me now and
then. I probably need to do this I tell myself. Maybe my mind and body need the
withdrawal time for recovery and recuperation, for building inner strength for
whatever comes next.
From past experience, I know that these sorts of feeling don’t
last forever. I will go out walking again. The sun will shine, the skies will
not always be grey.
As one of my neighbours said to me, “We’re one day closer to
summer.”
