Love in the time of Corona -- 7

with apologies to Isabel Allende

DAY 5

Today the buzz from the marché should be perculating up and down the village streets. 

Catherine should be selling her brownies, the bio veggies stand should have a long line.  

Nadine's clothes should be hanging across from La Noisette which would have every seat filled as people drink their espresso.

Instead the streets are almost empty. A few people walk by with their dogs and/or baguettes. They all have their permission forms in case a gendarme stops them. The fines are getting higher for people who are not staying home during the lockdown without a listed reason for being out.

Perpignan, our nearby city, has started an 8 p.m. 20H curfew.

Many places have a designated time where people stand on their balconies or doorways and sing or clap hands to honor the medical staff who are on the frontlines. Argelès hasn't done that yet.

I check my email to see how an elderly neighbor with the virus in Switzerland is doing. She died last night at 20:25. 

I found her an amazing woman with almost unlimited knowledge about almost everything. Opinionated, but with facts to back up those opinions. A teacher who wanted to stamp out ignorance. Generous, often funny. Stubborn. At times unreasonable. Someone who enriched my life. I worry about her husband, also ill.

The virus is no longer numbers on the screen. It is personal.

I bake a pumpkin pie, partially to eat and partially to add sweet smells to the flat.

Rick puts on jazz from the 30s and 40s. The book I am reading Tony's Wife, is set in that period and the same music is almost a character in the story. 

He starts to dance. I join him. The dog, on his pillow in front of us, just stares.

Sherlock demands his morning lap time and Rick complies. 

However, when we give him the medicine the vet gave us yesterday, he decides laptime is over. 

It's Rick's day to make lunch. Often, when it's one of his days, we go to La Noisette, Gamette, Flowers, some place at the beach. So much so, the wait staff will say, "Ah, Rick, your day to make lunch, n'est pas?" when we sit down at a table. I admit, I do the same but the wait staff hasn't caught on.


This is no longer an option. We are lucky there are no food shortages. The fresh fruit and veggies from Elisabeth's are plentiful and local, an advantage of our Southern France location.

We watch Governor Como on CNN. He talks about what New York is doing about the crisis. 

This is personal. 

Rick's mother is in upstate New York. Fortunately, she doesn't go out. Rick sent her flowers for Easter but worries that contact with the delivery person could have endangered her. More likely he left the flowers on the front porch as instructed.

We listen to a video from a doctor who is sadden by old people dying alone. He uses his phone to call relatives so they can at least say goodbye.

We play with the dog, write, chat, cuddle. With such a crisis, it seems almost obscene to be enjoying this quiet time together.