When the coronavirus started to get serious, my husband Bob
and I were at a Mexican resort, trying to take one last vacation before the
world shut down, unable to enjoy watching pelicans dance with the waves because
of worry.
Acapulco was gorgeous but we were too worried to enjoy it,
and left early to start the journey home
Our oldest child, Aryk, was hunkered down at Keele University
in England, one of the last students still on campus, trying to decide if
coming home would disrupt their chances to graduate this summer. Our youngest,
Gavin, was in Vermont, gathering up their things (and their emotional support
cat) from college.
Bob and I had stopped working full-time in 2018, envisioning
an adventurous retirement spent exploring the world. We rented out our house
and happily hit the road. The kids went to college. We explored Mexico. Life
was good.
But the coronavirus changed everything. In a blink of an
eye, we needed a family home, and to reel in the kids, ASAP. Since Bob’s mom
had passed away in January, we decided to move into her Pennsylvania condo
instead of selling it. We hustled to purchase plane tickets for kids before
borders closed, flew from Acapulco to Mexico City, packed up our truck, and
began the five-day, 2,500-mile odyssey north from Mexico City to Mechanicsburg,
Pennsylvania.
Thus all four of us journeyed toward the empty condo of a
dead woman from different points on the globe.
Bob and I, driving 8-10 hours a day in our trusty Toyota
Tacoma, worried about picking up the virus from every gas pump, every hotel
room door, every person who coughed near us in a rest stop on our way to the
bathroom. Shoulders tight, we fretted that the Mexican border would close
before we got through, that we would get sick or be stopped and quarantined
along the way, that we wouldn’t be able to get food to eat.
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| Images from the rainy drive home |
When we crossed the border into the United States, I cried
with relief.
At the same time, we worried that our kids would pick up the
virus as they traveled. Gavin had to fly from Mexico City (where they were
visiting us for Spring Break) back to Champlain College to pick up their books,
clothes and their emotional support cat, then from Burlington, VT, to
Harrisburg, PA. Aryk had to cross the Atlantic Ocean to Atlanta , GA, before
boarding a plane to Harrisburg. Both then had to take Ubers to Grandma’s condo.
Gavin arrived at the condo first. He was already
experiencing coronavirus symptoms by the time Aryk showed up a few days later.
They wisely isolated from each other as Bob and I powered northward,
white-knuckled. By our final travel day, Gavin was coughing and feverish. Of
course, we ran into a traffic jam in the last few hours to further exacerbate
the tension.
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| Gavin with his trusty cat in Grandma’s condo, getting his temperature taken |
But now we are together, and I am grateful. Gavin is on Day
10 of what we presume is the coronavirus (though the PA State Health Department
declined to test him), still with a fever, extreme dehydration and no energy,
but thankfully, the disease has not lodged in his lungs. The rest of us have no
symptoms, but Bob and I are keeping six feet away from Aryk for 14 days, just
to be safe. I serve Gavin meals and meds and massive pitchers of water wearing
a hospital mask and rubber gloves, and pray I don’t catch it. We all wash hands
and doorknobs voraciously. When Gavin is no longer ill, the 14-day quarantine
clock will begin for us all.
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| Out walking with Aryk, always six feet apart |
Every day that the three of us don’t experience symptoms is
a victory. Every tick down of Gavin’s thermometer is a relief, though the
subsequent day it always goes back up, so we are not out of the woods yet. We
are all quarantined, getting food delivered and staying inside except to
exercise.
But I’m grateful we are together, that we have a place to
stay that feels like home. I’m grateful that Grandma left us some unexpected
gifts, in addition to the condo, such as two thermometers, and masks and gloves
to protect me from Gavin’s virus. I even found an electric keyboard in a
closet, which will keep me busy for the next year re-learning how to play. I
think Bob’s mother would be happy to know that, in death, she is taking care of
her family so well.
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| Grandma’s unexpected gift |
Most of all, I am grateful to be with my husband and kids. I
pray we all make it through unscathed, not just the ones in my household, but
my stepmom and six brothers and sisters, their spouses, my nieces (one
pregnant) and nephews, great-nieces and great-nephews, aunts and uncles, and
many, many cousins. Traveling the world seems like a distant memory. Now my
dream is that my family and friends survive this and we can all restart our
lives next year.
And I am eternally grateful that Grandma hoarded toilet paper.
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| Fortunately for us, Grandma was prepared for Armaggedon |
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