![\"\"](\"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/11\/Photo-by-Anna-Shvets-from-Pexels-Marcia-200x300.jpg\")
I blame the masks, in part.<\/p>\r\n
At the deli case at Central Market, for example, I\u2019m separated from the guys who slice and package my order not only by the refrigerated case of meats and cheeses, but also by the masks we all wear. I can scarcely see the servers, because the mask fogs up my glasses. And, I struggle to hear them, given that I can neither see their lips move nor fully read their expressions. So, I shout out my request and hope for no follow-up questions.<\/p>\r\n
What makes t<\/span>hat sad is that I like to banter with Mark in deli\u2026and with Andre in security and Marcelo wherever I encounter him. Having been a regular at Central Market since it opened, I\u2019ve long enjoyed seeing their familiar faces and knowing they recognize me as a result of some exchange we\u2019ve had. Andre, for example, may not know my name, but over a decade ago, he rescued me when my car died in the parking lot. I was his first Prius. We bonded while poring over my owner\u2019s manual to locate the battery, both of us astounded to find it in the trunk.<\/p>\r\n [perfectpullquote align=\"left\" borderright=\"true\" cite=\"\" link=\"\" color=\"#3369B1\" class=\"\" size=\"\"]\"...but my one-hour weekly trip to the grocery store had become my social life.\"[\/perfectpullquote]<\/p>\r\nThese brief encounters grew more significant after the shutdown. I missed them when, for months, I ordered online and waited in my car while a temporary hire filled my trunk with food. When I went back into the store about six weeks ago, I recognized myself as one of those old ladies who teases out a little conversation from customers and employees alike. I do not show photos of grandchildren to the checker, but my one-hour weekly trip to the grocery store had become my social life.\r\n\r\n And, I had the rare opportunity of inviting the wallflowers hanging in my closet to accompany me on these occasions. For a couple of hours, I wore something other than my usual, slightly elevated version of pajamas. My actual pajamas are looking very tired. I\u2019ve long had a rule about pajamas. In winter, no matter what time it is, when I come home for the day, with no plans to go back out or have anyone over, I\u2019m allowed to take a hot shower and put on PJs and a warm robe. Since COVID, I have put no such seasonal restrictions on myself. Eating an early dinner in PJ\u2019s is not something I\u2019m proud to admit here, but it happens more and more.<\/p>\r\n <\/p>\r\n I survived. Since my close call, I\u2019ve been living it up. I\u2019ve cleaned out closets and cupboards. I\u2019ve taken an inordinate amount of interest in collecting the mail and getting my bins to the street early. I\u2019ve completed countless crossword and Sudoku puzzles. I\u2019ve watched multiple episodes of Forensic Files<\/em>. I\u2019ve started going to bed at 9:30, even if I\u2019ve enjoyed an afternoon nap. Of course, I\u2019m always up by 5:30, before the newspaper hits the driveway.<\/p>\r\n <\/p>\r\n I used to do more. I miss movies at the Angelika, lunch at Kalachandji\u2019s, strolling idly through Target. I miss my cleaning lady and going to church. Even more, I miss seeing my family and taking a trip out of town. I missed an important wedding in May. These are losses, great and small. Getting old, of course, is all about loss. That\u2019s something I learned watching my parents and in-laws grow old and die: They stopped driving, their friends died, their health failed. The losses mounted.<\/p>\r\n <\/p>\r\n <\/p>\r\n Yes, COVID has made me old before my time. It\u2019s been instructive that way. I learned Zoom to keep up my yoga practice and to teach English to my adult students. To compensate for the loss of lunch dates, I re-discovered talking on the phone. I published a book of my family stories, then switched to others\u2019 loved ones, in Oakland Cemetery. In the midst of loss and boredom and anxiety, I had to accept and to adapt. I\u2019m hoping, when the pandemic eases, I can resume some of the life I\u2019ve lost. But I\u2019m not without gratitude for this suspension: It\u2019s been an unexpected opportunity to practice what\u2019s to come.<\/p>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/section><\/article> <\/p>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/section><\/article>\r\n <\/p>\r\n <\/p>","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[10,12],"tags":[59,58,57,48,60],"class_list":["post-50333","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-stranger-than-fiction","category-theme-park","tag-bicycling","tag-coronavirus","tag-covid-19","tag-masks","tag-seniors"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/50333","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/38"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=50333"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/50333\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/52335"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=50333"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=50333"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=50333"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}![\"\"](\"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/11\/Photo-by-Milan-from-Pexels-Marcia-300x200.jpg\")
\r\n\r\n\u00a0\r\n\r\nAfter my dad turned 70, he joked that going to the doctor was his social life. I get it now. I look forward to having any appointment, even a medical one. There\u2019s a little thrill in making a note on my calendar that I must go somewhere on a certain day at a certain time. I recently had my annual physical and a dental checkup. As it happens, scheduling my appointments was the only fun part. Getting my teeth cleaned was particularly stressful. The hygienist resembled an astronaut as she hovered above my prone self: I was a specimen on a slab. I took mild pleasure, however, in feeling purposeful.[perfectpullquote align=\"right\" borderleft=\"true\" cite=\"\" link=\"\" color=\"#3369B1\" class=\"\" size=\"\"]\"...I was a specimen on a slab. I took mild pleasure, however, in feeling purposeful.\"[\/perfectpullquote]\r\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/11\/photo-of-marcia-201x300.jpg\")
The most fun I ever have is riding my bicycle. I\u2019m outdoors, I\u2019m among people, I\u2019m doing something good for my health. The latter is, of course, another way I\u2019ve grown old before my time. When the pandemic reached the U.S., my age became the number-one risk factor: I was over 65. Consequently, I began to fret about my health, something that, up until then, I had pretty much taken for granted. I upped my Vitamin D intake, started tracking my blood pressure, scrubbed down my canned goods and milk cartons, and wondered whether all that deep breathing in yoga had strengthened my lungs enough to keep me off a ventilator. Early on, I pulled into Kroger\u2019s drive-thru pharmacy and unthinkingly spoke into the handset without wiping it down with a Clorox-saturated wipe. I thought I was a goner.<\/p>\r\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/11\/Photo-by-Prasanth-Inturi-from-Pexels-Marcia-300x180.jpg\")
<\/p>\r\n