Meditations on 14-day family quarantine
We're preparing to do the opposite of travelling, says Suzanne Westover.
Pre-pandemic, I used to love packing for a trip — though, truth be told, the anticipation often outweighed the experience. Travelling with a child is always a bit of a gamble.
Jet lag, unfamiliar foods and a drastic change in climate have resulted in too many trips to foreign hospitals.
But regardless of the angst of shepherding a sick child for a nebulizer (Thailand), antibiotics (Florida), or an inhaler (Netherlands), I nonetheless anticipated each vacation with unbridled enthusiasm.
Nowhere was the pleasure I derived more evident than in the preparation: from choosing an airplane outfit with utmost care, to ironing my warm-weather staples, to stocking up on tiny toothbrushes preloaded with minty paste.
I loved picking the book I'd dive into once the airplane lights were dimmed and a hushed silence fell over the passengers. Turning on my private reading light and basking in its warm glow signalled that my vacation literally was taking off.
So I couldn't help but feel nostalgic as I prepared for the polar opposite of time away. After three and a half months keeping the engine running on a 60,000-tonne cruise ship idling in wait for resumption of guest operations, my husband was coming home from sea. This meant a twoweek lockdown for our family while my husband sits out his quarantine.
When I first found out the government was mandating that travellers spend three days in a hotel, I began wondering if I could switch places with my husband … such was my desire for a change of scene.
But since he's an essential traveller and the policy isn't yet in effect (that's next week), I soon gave up my daydream of room service and pay-perview at an airport Holiday
Inn. So, instead of picking out snacks and treats for a trip, I was loading up two grocery carts as I consulted an impossibly long grocery list. Rather than choosing a game for the plane, I was selecting a handful of crafts and activity books to amuse my daughter when even outdoor masked play with neighbours was off the table.
Rather than packing a neatly pressed wardrobe, I ordered a new fleece-lined sweatsuit online.
My usual beach read was replaced by a far more sober selection: I hope to pick up some of James Clear's Atomic Habits and have Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Man to mull from the very comfort of my couch. At least I can use my time in isolation to learn something that will serve me well on the other side. My basement storeroom is full of non-perishables, sitting next to suitcases covered in a fine layer of dust.
Part of me feels sad that family trips seem like a distant dream.
But I also recognize there are benefits to staying put. We will no doubt emerge from our lockdown pastyfaced — but without the jet lag, unfamiliar foods and change in climate. The experience just might surpass my (low) expectations.