I went for a drive.

I know I am supposed to shelter in place. But just those commandments, shelter and place have me pacing and itchy, so I sheltered in car, alone, unmasked and free, like the good ole days of January. 

It was raining an indifferent kind of drizzle, as though neither the sun nor the clouds were all that enthusiastic about their weather jobs. I thought about John Prine. He sang, 

Radio’s on

Windows rolled up

And my mind’s rolled down

Prine won’t be singing anymore, no more concerts, or live recordings, or jam sessions. We lost him to Covid-19 and that’s a real mother. It’s this atmospheric and emotional disturbance that has me on the quarantine lam.

It’s both the macro and micro of Covid that pulled me towards the narrow stretch of asphalt that cuts a path through the North River. I needed a moment to roll down my mind. The Down East highway is a raw ribbon of road and knowing that there are creatures just beyond the right of way capable and willing to make a snack of me keep my driving tight and between the lines. The wind had the waves crowned in white, not angry, not calm, aware and intensely alive. The scenery and my mood felt aligned. 

I have a loop in my mind of an NPR interview with a scientist. That is the idea I am munching on. I don’t remember the day and can’t find the interview but I need to spread this word. For the sake of communication, let’s call the scientist Vida and let’s give her a French accent. (She had an accent, but I wasn’t paying that much attention at the time. It could also have been German or Swedish.) My listening was delayed, the translation of her comments unveiling themselves to me more clearly in recall than real time.

Vida spoke with authority and genuine kindness. She had spent many years with the CDC studying all things sciency and scary. Things that put you down in the underbelly of the hospital so that you don’t frighten the normal sick people with your feverish, hallucinogenic outbursts or large abscesses that have to be lanced with chain saws. I am speculating here. I am not medically trained.

Vida talked about deoxyribonucleic acid and viral mutations and how Covid-19 might be managed. And then she said something to the effect that I am sort of quoting, having totally made up that her name is Vida and that she has a French accent, I will jump on in all the way here and quote Vida. She said, “Covid-19 and plagues of this sort should be treated as teachers rather than enemies.” Her point being that if we look to learn rather than conquer, we might get ahead of Covid and other illnesses. We might advance beyond the teacher with wit and instinct, not just reaction. From a place of reverence and respect, we must seek to discover and understand.

Whoa there, Moon Doggy.

What if Covid is our teacher? What if the pandemic is here to help us take real stock in the things that are important? When Maslow’s hierarchy of needs rests before us and we have to stare hard at survival, security, belonging, importance, self-actualization, (and WIFI and toilet paper,) what are we really learning?

This isn’t a multiple-choice kind of quiz. It is an essay. I am still writing my answer.

I am inconvenienced. I am bored. My nails are naked and my roots need a touch up. I suck at being still and being at home all of the time. I am tired of being on duty in the lunch room and I would like a massage. I want to hug my friends. I miss bars and overpriced glasses of wine. I want to have a standing room only inside and outside kind of party. I plan to kiss all my guests, probably on the mouth, possibly with tongue. I want to go shopping and roam around and go to the gym and go to the vintage store and eat baskets of chips and salsa. I want to go to a hotel with my husband. I want to wear a fancy dress and maybe even a bra. I want to stand awkwardly close to strangers.

And, I am okay not doing any of these things for as long as it takes for me to be part of the greater solution. As long as it takes for Covid to teach me, teach us, as long as it takes to be schooled and to truly learn.