PARALLEL LIVES

The other day my friend and I were on our weekly walk in the botanical garden, at 8.30 am enjoying the deserted space and the enthusiastic bird song. Several toucans were screeching above us, way too high to spot their bright yellow chests and black beaks. Mid-walk we passed in front of the playground area, until recently cordoned off by yellow and black tape. The tape had gone. In its place a brand-new set of rules posted on a placard indicated the playground had re-opened. To our surprise, a pretty café had opened as well. 

We used to stop at the previous one, which had closed at the end of the year, for an expresso and a shared bottle of water, and to chat with the resident cat, Penelope. Now we stood there transfixed, not sure what to do. We desired the coffee and the return to our routine, but at that moment, taken by surprise, the process was too overwhelming.  Would the cups be sanitized? How would we pay? Would it be safe to share a bottle of water? Everything felt fraught with danger. We decided to give it a pass, but to return the following week armed with credit cards, alcohol spray and gel, not to mention permission from our families. We laughed at ourselves that it could be this complicated, but the sad reality is that since mid-March neither of us has eaten or drunk anything at all outside our homes. 

Both of us are fortunate enough to share our self-isolation with our closest family, and our only escapade is the weekly two-hour walk in each other’s physical company. I meet my other friends on Zoom or other social media. They too have created their own allowed activities, some only leave their apartment to walk on the roof of the building, some see their children and grandchildren with safety protocols in place, and some retreat to the mountains or the seaside. 

 

Back in March. April and May our contact with family and friends, both here in Rio and in other countries, was frequent and seemed necessary for our sanity. We’d huddle in front of the Zoom screen, sipping wine, as we shared stories and thoughts about our Covid restrictions. Lately, though, those calls have tapered off - the upbeat exchange is not so easily achieved anymore. We have resigned ourselves to this lingering quarantine but feel energy-depleted by the inevitable restrictions. We have to choose to live within the possible - lead parallel lives where most of us, at least in our age group, limit our physical contact to our immediate family. I cannot travel, for example, but I can get a new puppy to inject new energy and life into our house. I cannot meet my friends over meals at nice restaurants, but I can plan and cook a delicious Sunday lunch for our small family group. And, for my physical and mental well-being, I can maintain an exercise routine and sing loudly to music while I do it. 

 

Meanwhile, we read our books and binge on our series. Our days pass, one after the other, then the weeks, and then the months. Behind it all, we think, or trust, we’re in this together, and we will somehow get through it.