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| View from my window. No kids playing outside and no cars in sight. |
By Jane Han
SEATTLE ― It's a weird feeling to be grounded as an adult.
I'm more than three weeks into this life of pseudo-lockdown and it still feels weird to be confined to my house, strongly discouraged to do the most ordinary and mundane activities I used to do outside.
After staying in ― as ordered by the federal and state governments ― for two long weeks, I entered the outside world for the first time today to pick up some much-needed groceries.
The spring sun felt so bright and warm on my face. Two weeks was apparently enough time for Seattle's infamous rainy season to be replaced with an entirely new season full of blooming flowers.
It almost felt surreal to be outside in daylight and driving the empty streets of my neighborhood, which is usually laced with bustling cars all morning.
Traffic was non-existent, so the drive to Whole Foods Market was a breeze. But oddly, traffic began at the store, with a long line of people waiting their turn to get in stretching out the door.
I've heard and read plenty about long lines outside big-box stores like Costco, but seeing people lined up, spaced out and standing on tape marks on the ground indicating six-feet intervals gave me an instant and stern reminder that this isn't some situation on TV, but for real.
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| This is what a quarantine grocery cart looks like. |
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| In 2020, there's no better gift than a Costco sized box of toilet paper. Thanks to a thoughtful friend, we're good for at least a month. |
In two weeks, things certainly have changed.
Most shoppers and workers in the store were wearing masks of all kinds and colors, even protective gloves weren't uncommon. And people were wiping down like crazy even as they shopped.
Amid the intriguing backdrop, I managed to shop a cart full and left yet another surreal scene behind and returned home to my quarantine crew. Back to my new reality.
Before I open the garage door leading into the house, I hear my three kids either yelling, laughing or both.
I think to myself with a little mom guilt, "Oh dear God, I don't want to go in."
Schools have already been closed for almost a month and will remain shut for the rest of the academic year, which would have ended in late June.
Work places have also been shut down and will stay closed for at least another three weeks, so my husband, three daughters and I are all stuck at home in each other's company all day long, day after day.
Despite the temptation to stay out longer, I walk in with two hands full of grocery bags. The first thing I notice when I see my husband typing away in his temporary home office is his hair, long overdue for a cut.
Hair salons, like many other non-essential businesses, were shuttered here when the first stay-at-home order was issued last month, which means we're all sporting a bit of a shabby look. I'll get to his hair later when the scissors I ordered from Amazon come in the mail.
Before I get a chance to give a full testimony about my outing, my husband races over with a container of disinfectant wipes. He religiously wipes down every item I purchased, just like he does anytime we get our groceries ― or anything else from outside ― delivered home.
This has become another new and mandatory part of our post-coronavirus routine.
Dinner time is approaching and I get ready to cook up my ninth meal of the week and it's only Wednesday. Restaurants are barely open, offering only limited take-outs, so playing chef has become a new full-time job for me.
I can't wait to wrap up another day of quarantine as I plan to finally get to the movie "Contagion," a 2011 film that apparently features an eerily similar and prophetic plot depicting the current coronavirus pandemic.
I'm not sure how the film ends, but I hope it's a happy ending.
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