This past weekend, for the first time in months, my family and I packed the car and left our home for an overnight trip. Some would say we’ve been practicing social distancing to an extreme.
I haven’t been to a store since March 13th, relying on the hardworking individuals from Amazon, Instacart, and carrier services to deliver everything from milk to wall paint. We wipe everything with antibacterial wipes or let it “decontaminate” for days. I wash oranges and apples in dish soap and hot water.
We’ve made every meal we’ve eaten since March 4th. Every, single bite. My kids missed Starbucks, so I learned how to make three flavors of Frappuccinos. I’ve used long-neglected minor appliances on the regular. When the power went out for two days—spoiling everything in the fridge—I wowed my children by lighting the stove, boiling water in a kettle, and making coffee in a French press. Even then, I managed without takeout.
Socially, we’ve practiced isolation vs. distancing. Video calls with friends and family are as connected as we’ve been for months.
Are we crazy? Maybe.
But let me explain the crazy.
At first, our fear was pretty standard in New Jersey. COVID walloped our state early. I personally know people who lost family members to the disease. I know others who fought it themselves and survived. Everyone hunkered down as much as possible.
When the restrictions began to lift and my husband, a dentist, was allowed to resume non-emergency procedures, our fear intensified. Spending hours a day in the mouths of others, even with proper PPE, increased my husband’s risk. As his family, ours increased as well. Yes, we’re under 40 and in good health, but no one wants to roll the dice with this crap.
With the employees back on payroll, we also held the financial wellbeing of several people in our hands. If my husband tested positive for COVID or if someone in our family tested positive, our team would be out of a job for a minimum of two weeks, probably longer.
We had to minimize our risk as much as possible.
“Should I stop cuddling the kids?” my husband asked.
“That’s a risk worth taking,” I told him.
We are an affectionate family, and we haven’t let COVID fear get between us. But we’ve weighed every other risk as the state began to reopen.
Though we could now get haircuts and mani-pedis, the girls and I continue to grow our locks long and utilize the services of our resident manicurist—aka the man of the house. (If he can drill a tooth, he’s a sure bet for steady polish application). I’ve butchered a few at-home barber jobs for my husband, who will be buzzing his hair for foreseeable future.
For the first time in our sixteen-year marriage, we’ve stopped wearing our wedding rings in public. We wear masks instead. So do our kids.
The grandparents beg for visits. “We’re willing to take the risk,” they say.
My parents live over six hours away and are both at high risk for COVID complications.
“We can’t get to you without stopping, and I don’t want to be responsible for killing you,” I told them. “It’s too risky.”
My in laws, on the other hand, own a beach condo two hours away and invited us for a weekend.
“I’m not sure,” my husband said.
“The girls and I haven’t been anywhere since March. We’re going to start losing our minds.”
He called his parents with a list of requests: No eating out and no indoor spaces beyond the condo. We would go to the beach. We would go fishing. The six of us would spend time together as a family.
“How are we going to social distance?” the kids asked.
“We’re opening the circle,” I told them. “For this weekend, they are in our circle, but don’t hug them or kiss them like you normally do.”
We were all slightly dehydrated after the two-hour road trip since there would be no bathroom breaks. Our arrival was awkward. In place of the usual affectionate greetings, we stood apart, not exactly sure how this was going to work. Eventually, we all relaxed a bit. My husband sat away from his parents whenever possible. The girls and I were practically giddy for company beyond ours.
The first day, we rose early and wore masks to walk from the car until we claimed a stretch of sand. No one else did. It terrified the shit out of my husband. We left long before the beach got crowded.
On the second day, a family started toward the beach access path as we were leaving. Seeing our masks, the mom told her kids to wait. Another woman walked around her and passed us. She wasn’t wearing a mask. Neither was the family patiently waiting for us to pass.
The mom gave me a look. I couldn’t decide if she was judging us for wearing masks or panicking that she had brought her brood to the beach without them.
“He’s a healthcare worker,” I said, pointing to my husband as I hurried past. It was my way of saying “We’re wearing these masks for you more than us” or maybe “We’re taking this seriously because we’ve been on the CDC calls and OSHA calls and PPE webinars.”
“Ah, that makes sense,” she said. A few moments later she yelled after us “Thank you for what you do.”
I didn’t correct her. My husband isn’t saving lives in the ICU, but he’s doing everything he can to minimize the risk of putting more people there. I wish everyone would.
Those two days were the most fun we’d had in months. It was the mental boost we all needed, and yet, I don’t think it will happen again anytime soon.
“You should come back next weekend,” my in-laws said as we packed to leave. “Any weekend you want.”
“We’ll see,” my husband said. But he’d seen enough. There were too many people not wearing masks. We were doing our part to protect others, but they weren’t doing theirs. It wasn’t a risk we could take.
“We can’t go back,” my husband said on the drive home. “Not until more people are wearing masks or the numbers drop.”
The day after we returned home, we learned of a COVID spike in the beaches near where we had travelled. We weren’t surprised. We’d witnessed enough people going about their day as though it was the summer of 2019 to know it was inevitable.
Was it uncomfortable wearing a mask in the heat? Yes. But I will continue to wear it each and every time I come in contact with people “outside my circle.”
The fact people have conflated mask use with politics blows my mind. I’m not willing to kill anyone to make a political statement. That’s where we are now. Masks will prevent others from catching this disease. Mask will save lives. Masks will make it safer, faster for everyone to venture out again. Please, wear the damn mask. For yourselves. For others. Because no individual’s right for comfort should supersede another’s right to live.
Kathryn Hively
Latest posts by Kathryn Hively (see all)
- Where Have All the Little Kids Gone? - March 30, 2023
- Practicing Nonjudgmental Parenting in the Post-Covid World - February 14, 2022
- Generation COVID - June 17, 2021