Even if we could click on the remote and restart the video that was once our life, I think it will be pixelated and jumpy at first. Even if we could crank up our economic engine again with the snap-of-a-finger, I think it will more likely need a few tugs on the pull cord, like our old lawnmower, before things hum without sputtering. Even if the windows on my world suddenly sprung open and I was free to fly, I think I would sit on the ledge a while and ponder a little longer, before taking flight.
Sitting around on our porch in the quiet evenings we liven up the conversation with “What if …” questions. A family favorite in years gone by has been “What would you do if you won the lottery?” The answers typically coalesce around putting most of it in the bank and sitting on it a while to digest the impact. Of course, the money doesn’t go to the back until after some fun splurge-y thing like a big expensive trip to the Maldives, or buying a new Tesla car.
A new COVID19 question has been added to our repertoire: “What’s the first thing you are going to do when social distancing is over”. The answer will vary depending on what our greatest pain point is at the moment. It can be anything from get a hair cut, to go to the gym, or the movies, or visit a friend, or have people over for dinner, or meet them at a restaurant. My guess is that we might treat ourselves to something that feels like a daring splurge-y move the first day, but then sit back and consider how we really want to spend our time in the post-COVID world.
Will we want more, or less interaction with people than before? Will we re-engage in all the groups we were involved with before — or maybe we didn’t miss one or two of them? Will we continue something new that we discovered during the lock down — mask sewing anyone? Did relationships shift during this time — and will they shift back, or stay at the same new COVID normal? Will some of the changes we made stick with us — wearing masks maybe? If we’ve witnessed healing of our planet, will we be more mindful of our impact on the earth?
Lots of questions. Not many answers yet. Just like we wondered what kind of parents we might be before we had kids. We had aspirations and hopes but we had to live into it to really know. And similar to parenting, clarity of intention helps but it sometimes gets messy and sometimes things are beyond your control.
Our world, and us in it, has been in a medically induced coma. It’s going to take time to wake up. There probably won’t be a fast-track back to normal — and we don’t even know what post-COVID normal will look like yet.
Last night the White House briefing introduced the new 3-Phase plan to open up America again. The gating and phasing concept was all very familiar from decades of working on IT projects. It seemed very well structured and sensible. The key figures on stage were poised and calm and speaking with unity. This is what I expect. 
Today was going to be Mask Day. Not the wearing of a mask, rather the making of a mask. I’ve witnessed enthusiastic and prolific sewers of masks scattered across the landscape of my internet feeds. A cottage industry has popped up in this country churning out an assortment of bright colors, funky designs, re-purposed cool t-shirts, even a Melitta coffee filter version.
We know about waiting around for a storm surge on the Texas Gulf Coast. When a named storm comes into the Gulf of Mexico, the media goes into hyper-overdrive. The weather becomes the headline news, the mid-point news and the wrap-up news – and then the special edition extension to the news. Public Service Announcements drop into our conscientiousness like pollen off the oak trees in March. We add water, batteries, extra canned soup, alcohol, chips and salsa to our grocery lists — never toilet paper before, but this could be a new thing after COVID-19.
I’ve always loved that WWII song “We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when …”. If you’re too young to know about it, take a minute to listen 
Getting back online with my high school friends this morning, ‘Waltham‘ was a few minutes late. [I’m going to call them by the towns/villages where they live now — a loose attempt at preserving some anonymity] Anyway, back to Waltham. She jumps in with “sorry I’m late, I was just outside checking what bins people were putting out, since tomorrow’s Easter Monday”. We all jam the airwaves on top of each other with “what?”, “tomorrow’s not Easter Monday!”, “what you up to?”, “today’s not Easter yet”. Waltham is in disbelief. She’s shocked. “Crikey, I ate my Easter eggs already!”. Deary me, we’re all losing track of time.
In 2017 Hurricane Harvey gifted us with 12 inches of water in our house and turned our home-life upside down. This was as unexpected as winning the Mega Millions lottery. These things happen to other people we read about in the news. We felt secure in our preparedness and trusting in our house built up out of the flood plain. Even as the water began rising rapidly in the street, we weren’t overly worried. 
Our self-appointed class comedienne, who never fails to make us laugh, did a ‘one-eighty’ on us this morning. There was none of the usual light and breezy stories we so look forward to. As a medical professional, who thrives on being in the middle of all the action, she has been unexpectedly forced to sit on the sidelines this time – due to personal risks. The media has been so focused on the dire situations our doctors and nurses have been thrust into, that we hadn’t considered others who might be excluded.
Growing up in Grimsby on the northeast coast of England in the late 60s / early 70s, the sound of Radio 4 programming was the constant background to our family life. The little wireless radio in the windowsill was turned on in our kitchen when the sun came up and didn’t go off again until the family sat down for supper in the evening. It was our mother’s primary source of all knowledge, rather like me and NPR today. Family life clattered around it with the radio fading into the background when we came through for breakfast, after school hellos, just hanging around or hunting for snacks.
The Coronaviary 