Keeping my head above water

 

Waterfall behind me

I smiled at the double entendre in the title of this post and the picture of me, taken by Lily, with Whatcom Falls in the background. We took a walk in the park while her car was getting serviced, with the mild weather and no rain contributing to a lovely morning stroll. We didn't go far, really, but it was nice to be together during this season of social distancing. I have my mask around my neck, which I pulled up whenever strangers approached, but Lily and I consider each other to be family. She is part of my Covid "pod," one of those people with whom I feel comfortable breathing the same air.

I wanted to spend some time with her, since her mother died a few days ago, and she is hurting. Lily is from Guatemala and has a green card to live and work in the US, but with the politics being what they are these days, she didn't want to leave when she has no assurance that she would be able to return. Earlier this year, she traveled through Canada to Guatemala City to spend time with her ailing mother. Today, the border is closed to Canada. Lily was able to "attend" her mother's funeral through FaceTime; she is coping with the help of her family and the friends she has made here. She took the entire week off from work so she could grieve in private. And with close friends, which includes me.

My friend John had shoulder surgery last Thursday, and although I have sent him some emails, I still haven't heard from him, so that weighs on my mind, too. It was a fairly extensive rebuild of his right shoulder and rotator cuff. He is staying with a lady friend who agreed to take care of him for a couple weeks until he can function on his own. I am certainly willing to help, once he's in need and lets me know. I'll pester him until I get some answers about when that might be.

The weather is turning cooler now, and the leaves have begun to turn colors. On my walks I see leaves gently falling from the branches, creating a carpet under my feet. It is usually my favorite season, autumn, but this year the pandemic has created uncertainty in much of my daily life. The coffee shop, which has been a source of enjoyment for so many years, is still unable to open its doors to customers. We must sit outside, and with the weather changing, it's much less appealing than it was during the summer months. And John isn't there, so I am now making coffee at home and missing the social interaction I crave, even if we have to keep our distance from one another. I miss my life in the Before Times, before this pandemic upended the lives of millions of us around the entire world.

I got my flu shot last week, and I was able to get the high dose version of Fluzone. I didn't realize there are two kinds of flu shots being offered this year, until my blogging friend Kay alerted me to the difference. Most places around here are not able to offer the high dose, either, because of such high demand for it. My arm was very sore for three days, but now it's fine and I'm glad to have that behind me. I sure don't want to get the flu. I think I had the coronavirus back in March, considering my symptoms, but there were no tests available at the time. I had a cough, low grade fever, and lost my sense of taste and smell (such as it is). Now I am back to my version of normal and am doing all that I can to stay healthy. I sure miss the gym, but I wouldn't go back there right now, even if I could. When you work out, you breathe hard, and the virus is airborne. And there is the matter of my age.

Joe Biden is my age, born just a few weeks before me in 1942. So I know what he is dealing with and know how difficult it must be for him to be taking on the task of running for President at his age. He was not my first choice, but as a lifelong Democrat, he's what I've got. We will receive our ballots in the mail this week, and we'll sit down at the kitchen table and discuss our choices and then will drive our completed ballots to the drop box in front of City Hall. Washington state has had mail-in ballots ever since we moved here in 2008. At first I missed going to the polls early on Election Day, which is what we did in Boulder, Colorado, for decades. We tried to be within the first dozen voters, and usually we were. One year we got to our polling station fifteen minutes before opening, and there was already a line. I don't remember why, all these years later.

I truly hope that everyone who wants to vote this year will get a chance to, but there seem to be real problems in some other states. So this year I'm glad I don't have to venture out and stand in a long line, which will most likely happen all over the country. I have never missed voting in any election since my first one, when I voted for John F. Kennedy. Boy, that was a long time ago! How much the world has changed since then. And how many more people are alive today than back then: the United States had 186.5 million people, and now we have 328 million. That's 142 million more Americans! No wonder it seems crowded in so many ways: it is.

This is a tough time in the history of the world. I am privileged to be alive during it, and I hope I will have many more years of living to see how we get through this. No matter who wins the election next month, we will not return to any kind of normalcy for a long time to come. Sometimes this scares me, but other times I realize that what is happening in the world today is a struggle between different ideologies. It is not the first time this has occurred, and it won't be the last. The only thing any of us can do is keep our heads above water, so we can continue to breathe. Everybody uses different methods to cope with difficulty. And I do realize that the difficulties I have are miniscule when compared with others around the world, and even in my own country.

You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.' —Eleanor Roosevelt

Eleanor Roosevelt went through trials that I can only imagine, and she continued to live a full and meaningful life. When I was young and she passed away, I thought she was ancient, but now I realize she was only 78, which I will be in December. And I'm not ready to leave quite yet. I will use her life, however, as a bellwether for what it is possible to achieve in the remaining years of my life. She had strength, courage, and confidence in abundance, and I believe I can have the same if I just continue to look for those attributes within myself, and incorporate them into my little corner of the world. 

Because of the internet, I am able to have instantaneous news from around the world, and I do pay attention to what is happening in remote regions, as well as right here in Bellingham. I am blessed to have dear virtual friends around the world, and they give me a sense of what their lives are like, as well as those who live nearby. It always gives me great pleasure to look at the posts I receive from my friend in Canberra, who calls herself Elephant's Child, where it is springtime and the abundant spring flowers in her garden make me realize that I must expand my understanding of the world. Here the days are becoming shorter and the nights longer, but on the other side of the equator, the opposite is happening. Isn't that wonderful? It reminds me that what I see around me is only a small slice of life on our planet.

And with that, dear friends, I think I might have finished this post. It's become a lifeline for me, a chance to spend time sitting in my bed with my laptop, with my dear partner next to me, asleep through the clacking of my keyboard, and take stock of where I am today, and where I want to be tomorrow. There are always places one can look to see the good surrounding us, and to give thanks for friendship, which exists in myriad fashions to help us through these difficult days. Until we meet again next week, dear ones, I wish you all good things. Be well and don't forget to count your blessings.