It has come to my attention that I …

I spend money when I’m bored. I spend money on things I don’t need when I’m lonely or have a hard time going to sleep at night. It has come to my attention that I put things in carts and, in my enlightened moments, wait to click “buy”, but sometimes do so—accidentally. It has come to my attention that buying is my way to nest in that weird “Kilroy Was Here” graffiti-state of mind, because I know I don’t have long left. In NYC, that is.

Truth be known, I hate shopping. But online shopping has become some sort of weird shelter-in-place obsession. Packages arrive every day. It’s my daughter. It’s me. Buying groceries, clothes. The patio and table bistro set just arrived–two weeks early. The new parents don’t need more stuff, but I have this compelling need to make sure their balcony is cute and fun and ready for some morning coffee or a glass of wine and sunset.

The neglected outdoor space: It’s been driving me crazy since I got here. It’s their overflow space, which I completely understand, but it’s also a potential space for them to feel the fresh air, albeit it’s near the train tracks and overlooks the apartment parking lot. Still, when space is so limited, it’s a place to escape the confines of the apartment.

Every morning, afternoon and evening, I find myself looking out the window for hours. I listen to the sirens. I am still not desensitized to the roaring trains and I study,–like Jimmy Stewart in “Rear Window”– a few, very few masked people walking by.

I crave the air. I crave green and a place that isn’t heated or air-conditioned. I need to feel connected to Nature, of which there is none naturally here. It’s all been prescribed and calculated. Just the sky and clouds and persistent rainy days are of God in this urban space.

City life. It’s not for me.

So in my own way I’m attempting to recreate a place of urban tranquility for my daughter, son-in-law, baby granddaughter and mother-in-law when she arrives in the Fall to become a full-time nanny. I’m trying to set it up so that it’s a place to smile and relax and remember the historic eight weeks that we sheltered-in-place and made lemonade out of lemons.

Which reminds me, I miss my lemon tree back in CA so much. If I could, right now, I would sit outside in my backyard and have a spiked glass of a tangy lemon beverage. I see that it’s in the low 70s and it’s almost sunset.

I will be there soon enough. As for now, I get hugs in the morning, afternoon and evening. Baby vomit is my new perfume. It’s Saturday night and I get to go to bed early feeling, at long last, a sense of peace and sense of God’s deep love for me and everyone else. I pray that those who are sick and their families. I pray for their doctors, nurses, and staff members who are doing their best under terrible circumstances. I pray for my family and friends that we may see another day and each of us, in our own ways, contribute to the betterment of humankind. We gotta wait the storm out.

In the meantime, we can all make ourselves useful and be better versions of ourselves than we were six weeks ago.

“Good night my love, sleep tight my love, I’ll see you in my dreams.” My sweet Dad sang that song to me every night. It used to soothe my nightmare-inclined mind. When he sang that to me, all was well in the world. He loved me so. And I him. He was always so free to share his heart with me. It never goes away. That love. That belief in me, no matter what. That’s what this parenting and now grand parenting thing is all about.

They live in us.

This shelter-in-place with baby has turned me into an official Disney geek. I sing all the sappy, wonderful show tunes to my granddaughter and, no kidding, tears stream down my face. This love thing is ridiculous.

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