Retreat

 Los Angeles, California

It's that time again, when we visit the doctor's office, or drop by Costco to receive our annual vaccinations. Joel just got his Covid vaccine. I got my flu vaccine last week. He comes in contact with hundreds of people each day at his work, so he gets both vaccines. This year, for the first time since the Covid vaccine became available, I am only getting the flu vaccine.

I've had Covid twice (that I know of). I have no idea how I contracted the first bout (which was truly terrible), but clearly know that Joel gave me the second one, which was a very mild case. Joel was sent home from work with instructions not to return without a certificate of a clear test. He had barely any symptoms. We camped out together, watching movies and ordering take-out. It was fun.

My primary care physician, who has been my doctor since 1989 continuing the care provided by his father for over a decade, didn't exactly discourage me from getting the Covid vaccine. But he did share that he and other doctors in that medical community only took the first two-part vaccine and one booster. He never got Covid. I'm not skipping the vaccine solely because of that, but more because of the cognizance that the last bout was mild and at this point in time, I have had a truckload of Covid vaccinations. I'm guessing around six or seven. So I'm thinking that, pending a new variant outbreak, I'm going to get one every other year. At least that is the plan at this juncture.

Can it really be almost six years since Covid and the subsequent lockdown began? I remember the last scene in Ken Burns' The Civil War documentary where the aging veterans asked each other: Was it real? I don't feel that way about one-off events, like the Kennedy Assassination or 9/11. But the unique things that linger as this did, or the aftermath of a major earthquake, those get imprinted, and not always in a completely bad way.

I have had workers in my house for the past month and my mind has drifted back to that time during lockdown. At this point, I want everyone out! I am not someone who enjoys home renovation. I really abhor it. And while there is hammering and drilling in my house, or I have my water turned off for long periods of time, or I am waiting for an electrician and a window treatment installer to get back to me for a house call. It is times like this that I actually long for some aspects of lockdown.

I know my mind plays tricks on me. The memory of isolation and loneliness has become screened-back. There is the faint memory of the FaceTime happy hours and the longing to have a dog; that first trip to the market, wearing a bandana as a mask, and how spooky and panic-filled the entire experience felt. I can conjure up the memory of the anger I felt when people didn't abide by the spacing rule and stood right next to me at the post office. But the other side of all that is what I remember so clearly and fondly: The clean slate of each day with the luxury of filling the minutes and the hours with activities that felt good. I worked out, cooked, wrote, watched The Durrells of Corfu over again. I supported my housecleaner, Ana, but cleaned my own house for ten weeks, and undertook organizing projects. I talked to friends of the phone. People actually talked on the phone, which now seems to be an abandoned art with many of my friends. I got reacquainted and acquainted with two friends who became pen pals: My Brit frother, Russell, and a fairly new friend, Beth, whom I have nicknamed Beth2 (as there is a Beth1).

The truth is that I long for completely free time like that. Historically, this was the time of year when I was needing a vacation and we were preparing for our annual trip to The Kona Village. After I took on the care of my elderly mother, I was often beyond stressed. Tom would say to me: In a week we'll be at The Village. You'll be with Sandra. Then you'll feel better. But the Village doesn't exist as it did. And Sandra is long gone. And, though Joel and I will spend a week in Carmel shortly, it's not really a vacation that I need. I need a space of open, unscheduled time. No workers. No lunch dates. Even, no leaving the house. I need a home retreat. I want to work out, cook, clean closets, talk on the phone with friends who pick up. I want to do whatever I want with a clear conscience and more importantly, a clear calendar.

Who knows? Maybe the past five years have all been about reentry into a world that has changed. And it has changed mightily. And isn't that when we all feel the need to regroup? It's good to have a full life. But when that means you are opening your door to workers each day, or rushing to accomplish errands or, yes, even to meet girlfriends for lunch; sometimes you have to say enough is enough. So here is the question of the day: Does there have to be a pandemic in order to call for a lockdown? Or, what if we had called the lockdown a retreat? We were retreating from the possibility of catching Covid. We were retreating from our normal life of employment, socializing, and gathering. But in a better light, there is nothing wrong with a retreat. In fact, at times it can be a necessity. And for me, this is clearly one of those times.