My living room looks like a classroom from 1836. I have desks lined up, a chalkboard in the kitchen, and if I look hard enough, I’m sure I can find a yardstick stuck behind a mule. I guess that is the first thing that I have lost during quarantine, my yardstick and mule.
But also, my living room.
“Where’s my EMR pen!” my teenage daughter yelled. “Who took it!”
I have also lost any quiet that I once had in the house.
An EMR pen is a special stylus that works with my kids’ computers. Naturally, they come in night black and look like a stick. This makes it easier to lose. If anyone uses an EMR pen on their campfire, I would appreciate it back because they cost about 40 bucks a pop.
My 7-year-old’s teacher comes through loud and clear while I’m helping my 13-year-old son with his math. He has lost his headphones, which we are all assuming ran away with the EMR pen. It’s quite the scandal.
I coughed today. A small one but I noticed the tickle in the back of my throat. In a normal year, where we haven’t lost so many things, I would have chalked this up to the chalk dust on my blackboard. But instead, my mind goes to the worst place.
My daughter then found her EMR pen and I forgot about the cough. Did I mention the pen was 40 bucks? I have lost some money out of my bank account.
She then lost the pen again by the end of the day.
I need to go to the store. Or to put it more accurately, I need to order groceries on the computer and then head to the line at the store where they will pop my trunk and make the transfer without any contact. This is our routine nowadays. Lose stuff, find it, and lose any sense of normalcy that we once had.
When I do go to the store, I’m going to need to find my shoes. Or at least my slippers. I have one pair of shoes, one pair of boots, and one pair of slippers. Right now, I only have one slipper and I wear it around the house usually looking for the other one before I give up.
I’m not sure what happened to my shoes or my boots. They were here back in March, but the less I need them, the more I forget about them. I can only assume they lost their patience with not being worn and got jealous of the slippers. There is a plot a-foot. I can feel it in my cough.
My wife works every day quietly upstairs where she has Zoom calls and spreadsheets. I teach the kids and one day, she and I will find the time for us again. Those moments that we can steal during the day and hold hands just for the sake of hand-holding. She does not like working from home. She’s a social creature and has always enjoyed the pace of the office and the smiles of the people. My hand is the best that she can find right now.
My cough came back. I’ve got a tickle in my ear. Am I feeling nauseous as well?
We have not lost the cat. That we still have, which is saying something. Professor Mooney is a kitten and has found all kinds of great things to play with. He likes to knock water cups off the counters and attack my face. I can only assume that I look like an EMR pen to him, as that was his favorite toy. The pen is still lost, and I’m worried about my cat’s mental health.
My daughter got quiet the other day. She was exhausted from another day of homeschooling. She misses her friends. My 13-year-old son misses the reassurance of daily in-person lessons and often has anxiety that I’m not sure I know how to handle. My youngest left his Zoom call too early. He’s done this once or twice. The interaction with his teacher and classmates isn’t what it should be for a second-grader. I’m a little concerned that he has lost the ability to care about school
My cough left, but just in case, I sprinkled pepper into my mouth to see if I could still taste. Then I took a big whiff of the cat litter to make sure my sense of smell was still okay. I tell myself that the security that I’ve lost has been replaced with what I have found: the belief that I can diagnosis myself with cat poo.
We have all lost something during this year. Some have lost slippers, and our mental health is in the dumps. Our teachers continue to fight an impossible fight. Our first responders have lost faith that the rest of us will listen to them. My kids have lost their school, their friends, and anything they once thought was normal.
And others, have lost everything. A job, a place to live, or a loved one. I have lost the ability to feel my heartbreak anymore because now it’s constantly hurt.
And still, even after this whole year, people are complaining because they have lost their bar. I have lost the belief that my country can rise to any challenge because clearly, only about half of us can.
On a good note though, I found the EMR pen in the cat litter.
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