Our New Routine: A Poem for my Father

Each day I knock on your
imaginary office door.

My knock is a pause
at the entrance to the sunroom
where I rap my knuckles on
the wooden pillar which
divides the spaces.

"Yes?" you ask from
your caramel recliner. 
You lookup from the
biography you're reading.

"What time do you wanna walk today?"

You repeat my question back to me.

"What time do you wanna go?"

Each morning I share
one or two of the
to-dos from my list
that I'd like to finish
before we depart.
Based on those,
I make my proposal.

"How about 10:30?"

"Yeah, sounds good," you agree.

For the next hour
I bake, read and write
snail mail notes to
faraway friends.

For the next hour
you read, and
solve your crossword puzzle.

At 10:25, we meet.
Each of us bundled.
Ready to brave the
temperatures and wind
knowing these walks
warm our hearts.

Dancing, Meditating and Drawing.

Dancing.

Meditating.

Drawing.

Just three of the free online courses I've joined over the last week.

I've danced and sweat a WHOLE lot, with Ryan Heffington (@ryan.heffington) in his daily IG live classes. His song choice, including yesterday's Tracy Chapman's Fast Car, has been amazing along with his fun dance party atmosphere.

I joined Tracey Stanley's 21-day Empowered Wakeup course. Today I felt grounded from watching the recorded Zoom call I missed and I'm excited to wake up tomorrow morning to meditate. When was the last time I said I was excited to set an alarm?

Finally, my mom and I signed up to take a line drawing class together through Brit.co.  We're learning to draw and then watercolor buildings. This company is offering free classes through the end of March for anyone interested.

I'm just amazed by how generous artists and teachers, and really so many people have been, with their time and expertise in the past couple of weeks.

These classes help balance out everything else in these strange times. These activities help me to move my energy and shake it out of my body. They help to ground me to feel the certainty that's hidden in the chaos. They push that creativity inside of me that's ready to bloom. One way I'm already using it is by participating in the Slice of Life Challenge, but I feel I've got more to share.

Thank you to those teachers and to you all who are giving more. Especially stopping by to read this post. Are you taking any free classes currently? Exploring your passions with some extra home time? 

I Spy A Silly Face! A Tale of a Community Window Walk

Today, in Northern Illinois, the city my parents live in the residents participated in a Community Window Walk. The first community window walk occurred on March 17th, St. Patrick's Day. Participating residents placed shamrocks in their windows, and families would walk around neighborhoods looking for as many shamrocks as they could find. This event was so popular, someone, somewhere who should get credit, added other ideas, and wanted to continue the fun. 

In case you'd like to start one in your community, here's the schedule that's 
been going wild around the internet and the world!

My family didn't participate in the first walk, simply because we were unaware of it. I thought, despite today's chilly temperatures, we should join in the fun. So I printed a silly faced emoji I found on the internet and taped it into my parents' front window.

Can you find the second silly face? 
It's my mom.

This afternoon, my dad and I bundled up. Even though spring has officially begun, our temperatures have a differing opinion. This meant wearing extra layers...hats, gloves, scarves and of course the usual uniform of winter coats. We walked about three blocks and hadn't spied any silly faces in windows. Until from across the street, we spied...

Four faces were smiling back at us!

But not just one an entire house full!

Each street-facing window contained a silly face. You could observe the representation of different ages in this home—some silly faces made of scribbles, while others appeared more sophisticated. Regardless of artistic ability shown, we laughed and paused and talked about each one.

For the remainder of our walk, we searched for more. We didn't spy any other silly faces on the streets; we wandered down. I noticed that this small task that defined our walk increased my observational skills. I was observing not just windows but the colors of shutters, yard decor, and tiny stems peeking out from the cold ground.

I'm looking forward to the next walk, on March 23rd, animals.

Today Just Feels Weird

Today feels weird. I am experiencing the roller coaster of emotions that we all are, but today for feels weirder than the past few days have. 

I've tried to keep a good self-care routine this week. Each morning I meditate for about 30 minutes. Then I journal for a while afterward. It's about an hour I spend starting each day slowly and checking in with myself. Today I felt optimistic until I opened my window blind.

Northern Illinois was coated in fog. In movies and books, when there's fog, it sets a creepy atmosphere or unsettling tone. With the virus news, the fog became an emotional pull this morning. It made me feel a little bit more exposed even though we were coated in clouds.

As the day went on, my feelings of vulnerability increased...

• A trip to the allergist was my first medical encounter at an elevated level. I've had other appointments and been asked if the usual series of questions, but today I read a sign on the door that I needed to call to enter the building. 

Waiting

They explained the new procedure to me, which included waiting in my car until I was called and that one patient would be allowed to enter at a time. I was greeted at the door by the nurse, who was wearing a mask, gloves, and other protective clothing. She took my temperature. After receiving my shots, I had to return to my car to wait for the standard 20 minutes so she could check for any allergic reaction.

• On the way home, I stopped by my bank. Right now, you can only drive-thru. You must make an appointment to have any transactions that require more than can be handled from your car.

• As I picked up lunch from Panera, I accidentally touched the drive-thru employee's hand. After we brushed fingers, I noticed each of our eyes widened by the surprise touch, and then we exchanged awkwardly smiles. We each wished one another a good day, but I wondered if she felt the same way I did, a little too exposed. 

• When I checked in on friends and family today, others were feeling the weirdness too. Being a former international teacher means I have teacher friends and colleagues scattered across the world. Today one friend, who's been facilitating distance learning for his school located in Shanghai, China for the past seven weeks, was told that his school might lay off teachers in June due to low enrollment for the following school year. Another friend is stuck in Saudi Arabia as she's not allowed to leave the country for her spring break, but she's looking forward to learning more ukelele songs via YouTube. My sister, who's a high school Spanish teacher, made her first trip to Target in a week and had some anxiety before entering the store.

Maybe it was the fog. Maybe it's just the day. Maybe it's just more getting used to the changes, but with them happening daily, it can feel like a lot. Today it did. And as I write this, I feel okay, not worried, not fearful or anxious, just weird. 

Time for a Sellotape Haircut

As you can see, my cowlick has other ideas about being perfectly straight.

When I was little, my mom would trim my bangs. When they were getting too long, and into my eyes, she would wrap a towel around my neck and sit me on the kitchen counter. Then she would pull out a roll of sellotape in the U.S. known as Scotch tape. After ripping off a long piece, she placed it across my bangs to ensure sure she had a straight line to cut them. To make sure they were perfect. It always felt a little special when she did this.

Yesterday I noticed my bangs were getting quite long again. I trimmed and trimmed, trying to emulate the hairstylist I see. Trimming just a bit at a time with her hands flurrying across my forehead. Well, I didn't flurry, but I did cut a bit at a time. Trying not to
look too blunt but more blended as she does.
I thought my results were not great but acceptable.

This morning, however, I woke up, and when I looked
in the bathroom mirror, I noticed they were

Tada!

still too long. I started using the same strategy I'd used yesterday and began to feel annoyed. Annoyed because I wasn't getting the result I wanted. Rationally I understand I'm not trained in how to properly cut bangs but it seems like it should be a fairly straightforward task to accomplish. Then I recalled my mom's technique. So I went to the kitchen and grabbed the sellotape. I placed it across my forehead. I trimmed and trimmed. Better.

I'll still fuss with my cutting over the next few days because it's not quite right, but it already looks so much better than it did yesterday. Thankful, this particular memory popped up as I looked in the mirror this morning, practical and special at the same time.

Target Tales #2: A TP Photo Op Reminded Me About Kindness

My mom and I were picking up a few things on Saturday at Target. We'd hoped to find milk, my favorite Buffalo Wing Pretzel Crisps, coffee creamer, and a few other items for dinner. We'd had success with our list and decided, as many of us do when we're out shopping, to see if there were any toilet paper or paper towels.

We were at the end of the aisle where I saw an older man sitting in a motorized shopping cart, using his phone to take the photo, that many of us have, of an empty toilet paper aisle.

He saw me looking down the aisle as well and started reached his hand up to the electronic console and move out of my way.

I abruptly interrupted his move, "No, you don't need to move. I'm capturing the same photo you are, sir."

He looked up and smiled. "Oh, really?"

I nodded. It was at that moment that I decided to pause. I wondered did he need toilet paper. I wondered if this was his trip to gather the supplies, so many Americans are trying to find. I wondered if we might be the only human interaction he'd have and if so, we needed to make it count. We needed to stop and listen to him so I smiled.

"I live in _____ (a suburb about 45 minutes away). I used to live in _____ (about 20 minutes away). I lived there until my wife died."

"I'm sorry," I quickly muttered.

"It's okay. That was two years ago. Now I live with my son. He lives in ______ (aforementioned city). Today I was out in _____ (the same town he used to live in) helping my friend with a technology problem. I thought I'd stop on the way home and see if there was any toilet paper here. We can't find it for us. Guess we're not the only ones."

"No, you're not," I smiled.

He went onto tell us about the other stores he'd visited that afternoon. He had found some toilet paper at Aldi. He found paper towels at Dollar Tree.

"And I found all of this here," as he gestured toward his basket filled with some milk and a few other perishable items. "I found everything I needed."

"I'm glad you did," I replied.

His eyes twinkled as he said, "Me too."

"Take care. Wishing you and your family well, sir."

"Thank you. You, too," he responded.

Each time I've gone out since then, which I'm trying to avoid altogether, but when I do, I've tried to pause and show a little more kindness. I've been making more eye contact. I've been saying thank you to people stocking our shelves or those working at the drive-thru. It's these small moments that, during hard times, make a big difference, genuinely making sure we all find everything we need.

* I did not capture a photo that day but I think I captured something much more important.

Do You Know Starbuck's Code? A Reverse Culture Shock Tale

I'm learning new code in the U.S., Starbucks code. When I say that I don't mean Starbuck's beverage language like a tall Chocolate Dalmatian, I mean the Starbucks' patron code. 

Today while waiting for an appointment, I hunkered down to work at a nearby Starbucks. It was here that I was reminded of the patron code. Restroom code. Restroom code is where you are approached by a patron sitting near you who politely asks the small favor, "Can you watch my things while I use the restroom?" 

I'd been sitting at my table today, sipping my grande caramel macchiato with almond milk for about an hour when a nearby female patron asked me for this favor. I obliged but was taken back when she asked. I don't think it's rude or asking too much; it's just that I haven't lived within this culture for a while. I moved back to the U.S. in August after living overseas for ten years. As my new Starbucks' friend used the facilities, I pondered why this question, this favor, took me by surprise. 

In Prague, where I lived for the past four years, we didn't have this same code. If you needed to use the restroom, you packed everything up and took your things with you. Granted, I didn't visit Starbucks in Prague frequently for a few reasons. These included the fantastic cafe culture in my neighborhood, pickpocketing, and Starbucks' prices compared to local cafe prices (local cafes usually had better coffee too), it's just you'd never ask a stranger this favor there. 

It was about this time when my Starbucks' BFF returned. She smiled and said, "Thanks so much. Happy to repay the favor for you."

And about 10 minutes later, I took her up on it. It felt a bit strange, but it was so delightful to be able to leave my things at my table and not worry about them because I knew she would be watching them for me. 

Reverse culture shock is a funny thing because I never know when it'll strike. Today it happened at Starbucks.