After long shutdown, an uneasy gray area

Every time I picture a ski lift, my ankle twinges and my stomach drops. My knee and ankle have healed since last year’s accident, save for a residual creakiness, but the memory of that shock lingers in my body.

Now, I have the same visceral response when I see photos of the crowds across the country, wherever coopedup people end up going. A shudder passes through me, in what seems like the opposite of FOMO (fear of missing out)

Instead, it’s the fear of being in the thick of it — the horror of being around other people. After all my yearning to see friends and family, it feels paradoxical.

The first phase of sheltering in place, though an immense hardship in many ways, at least had clarity. Stay home! Stay home! Stay home! As restrictions have eased in different locales, we’re entering a frightening gray area.

Compliance around social distancing and face coverings may grow lax at best. At worst, those fed up have violently lashed out. In Michigan, a Family Dollar security guard was gunned down after he told a customer to put on a mask, and a store clerk broke his arm in Los Angeles trying to enforce a mask policy. The reports go on.

Like many, I worry that the weeks we sheltered in place — the peril placed on frontline workers and the shattered economy — might all be for naught if the disease returns to where we began in mid-March.

For now, for a while longer, it feels safer to stay closer to home, even as this weekend marks the unofficial start of summer with Memorial Day. With health officials still discouraging nonessential trips, the American Automobile Association is predicting a recordlow volume of travelers this holiday weekend.

It’s possible to find pleasures closer to home, with our family recently venturing out on offpeak days and times. One morning, after Didi and Gege finished their homework, we drove to Brentwood’s G&S Farms (which takes reservations) and picked brightred Tioga cherries. Juicy and sweet, every bunch resembled a slot machine’s jackpot spin. It also served as a field trip of sorts to illustrate a recent science lesson on seeds and plants.

Early on Sunday, after the rain stopped, we walked along Crown State Memorial Beach in Alameda, the whipping wind and the frothy waves glorious. The boys kicked off their boots and waded in, quickly soaking their rolledup pants.

On each jaunt, we came prepared with masks, wipes and hand sanitizer, and we stayed far apart from others.

Still, I wonder what’s going to happen in the weeks ahead. Will a wave of outbreaks reemerge, affecting the most vulnerable in our communities? Or will the coronavirus simmer all summer and explode again, outpacing attempts at treatments or a vaccine?

“I want to go to New York,” Gege said, pining for the spring break trip that we postponed. He wants to visit the country’s first pizzeria, which he learned about from an educational program we put on while my husband and I scrambled to get work done; hearing him repeat the fact made us feel slightly less guilty.

It’s the uncertainty that eats at us.

The first month our country retreated — in an effort to buck up — many people cheerily posted their sourdough loaves, shallot pasta and other dishes online, accompanied by the chipper hashtag #coronaviruscooking.

Now, as the pandemic has gone on, it’s just … cooking. We don’t need to qualify it as something new. It’s what life is, the endless present in which plans beyond next week are hazy.

New parents often ask, “When will it get easier?” To which my husband and I heard — and to which we’ve answered, “It doesn’t get easier. It’s just different.” So too with the pandemic. “I hope this ends by August,” Didi told me. He’ll turn 9 then and wants to celebrate with friends and family. Much as I wanted to, I couldn’t promise that to him. But I vowed we’d keep him and his brother safe.

Sixteen years ago, on our honeymoon in Spain, my husband and I visited the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, marveling at the architecture, which has the surreal look of melted candle wax. Construction of Antoni Gaudi’s masterpiece was slated to be complete in 2026.

Standing there, we promised ourselves we’d return with the kids we didn’t have yet, who were still only a dream.

Construction has been halted since midMarch and will not resume until it reopens to visitors. Eventually, I hope my family will visit this testament to Gaudi’s vision, reminding us that fanciful dreams can endure.

It feels safer to stay closer to home, even as this weekend marks the unofficial start of summer.