Covid

Covid is a drag. Waking up the morning after our long journey home from Scotland, my head felt like a bowling ball. Every time I picked it up, it fell back onto the couch. I was pitiful. 

I slept more than I was awake for Mother’s Day. Our brunch plans were obviously cancelled, but the highlights of the day included flowers from Fred, calls from our kids, sweet rolls from coffee hour (thanks, Betty!) and news from my mom that she remained Covid-free. How remarkable and wonderful is that! Ultimately, the same was not true for Fred. Sigh… Covid is a drag, and I dragged my dear husband down with me. Or after me, as the case may be, because he got his first symptoms after we were pretty sure he was home free. Not. Sorry I shared my Covid, Fred.

So, this has been a time of recovery at home. I call it forced rest. And, on the days when Fred and I were less pitiful and had a modicum of zip in our doo-dah, we escaped for some day trips to our boat. We were reminded of something the world learned early in the pandemic: it is a blessing to remain isolated from other people and stay connected to the beauty of the world. Driving to the lake, Fred and I appreciated every shade of green in the trees, admired the deep hue of blue in the sky and marveled at the shapes of the clouds on the horizon. You don’t have to travel far to realize that we live in such a pretty part of the world!

We love Lake Winnipesaukee. We do not plan to vacation at the lake this year since our sabbatical travels are taking us elsewhere. Still, it is a happy place for us, filled with memories of family and friends, love, laughter and… ice cream! At the lake, we fall comfortably into the rhythm of unhurried cruising and unflustered docking that have been honed through years of boating together. I can’t say that it was always that way, but I am glad that it is now! 

So, a day or two at the lake was great medicine for our isolated souls. Remarkably, our dog Chloe is greatly improved. And, as our only “kid” at home, she obviously came to the lake with us. Fred and I like to be on the water; Chloe likes to get into the water. So, at her first opportunity, she waded into the lapping lake. Her ears float like lily pads on the surface, but her feet steadily paddle under the surface to propel her towards the homing device tennis ball she simply must retrieve. When she makes it back to shore, she not only brings the soggy ball, but also, she delivers a soaking shake. My friend calls it, “Chloe’s cool mist on a warm summer’s day.” 

As the weekend approaches, I am delighted to report that Fred and I are both feeling better. (Cue the angel choir.) We head out tomorrow for an adventure together in Quebec City. Can you believe that neither of us have been to Quebec?! It turns out that neither of us speak French, either. Oh, well. It is just another part of the adventure!

As we depart for another country, I pause with deep gratitude for our own. The Finlandia tune lodges in my mind, “This is my song, O God of all the nations, a song of peace for lands afar and mine…” I love that song and hold its words dear. This week, I am grateful that I can go to town hall and vote. I am grateful for the people who have died defending our country and the tender ways we honor them in this town. And I am grateful that no veterans or scouts were injured in hanging the giant American Flag from the church belfry. Blessings to you all this Memorial Day weekend. I hope that you are healthy and well, and I invite you to be grateful for this day, our nation, and the beauty of this world that knows no bounds.