Member-only story
Coronavirus Claustrophobia Connects me to my Mother
As I enter my fifteenth week of basically staying at home, I have noticed changes in my personality that remind me of my mother when she was a housewife raising three children. Like her at that time of her life, I have lost confidence in my ability to do much beyond cook and organize my home. Granted, we moved into a condo May 15, so there has been plenty of organizing to do. But I feel like I have lost my former self in major ways.
Driving for one thing. I haven’t really used the car much in three months. Recently, I had to drive from my condo to our old house to supervise some work. I actually felt anxious leaving the parking garage of the new condo by myself. This was totally strange, as I was taking a five-minute journey on a familiar route. I was able to sort out the tasks once I got there, but the entire experience felt surreal.
Then there are my twin passions of reading and writing. I had a hard time concentrating long enough to complete a short book for my Zoom book club last week. After that, I decided to stick to beach reads for the time being. The Sunday New York Times? Forget it. You may as well ask me to climb a mountain. I skim it but can’t seem to get further than a few paragraphs into a story before my mind starts to wander. Writing is similar. I started a diary early in the stay at home phase. Here I am, still…
