Day 40 An Ordinary Day

It felt like a special day from the beginning. It had that Friday feeling (even though Friday is no different from any other day in this weird quarantine reality.)

I saw the first clover flower on my morning walk, visited the bakery to pick up a baguette for the Spanish Tapas night we planned, and smiled to see so many people at the little plant nursery down the street.

I made it back early enough to prune a few things in the garden and breathe in the deep aroma of the Lilacs that have finally begun to bloom. I was literally so giddy at their abundance and so intoxicated by the scent of the flowers that I said yes to whatever my little ladies asked. I can’t tell you what types of requests they made except that Little Bean repeatedly asked for chocolate from her Easter basket at 9:30 am and I (like a buzzed 25 year-old) granted her wish with a wink and a smile.

The girls have talked endlessly about a trampoline, a request that– mark my words, I will never endulge. But we do have a little fold-out sofa that I opened up for them to jump on. Arms filled with stuffed animals, blankets and the sound machine that lights the ceiling with stars- they built forts, told themselves stories and jumped up and down on that fold-out sofa all day long.

They only came downstairs for meals and snacks. I was able to skype with my mom and my sister. Eventually in the evening I forced them to go outside for a while.

This proved to be a tactical error because once outside, they fought over whose turn it was pile up all the pillows on the now very dilapidated lounge and sing King of the Mountain at the top of their lungs before the other one knocked them down. This obviously ended with very loud crying and we went inside for dinner.

Every night at dinner time Little Bean takes one look at whatever I’m preparing and screams as if she’s been stung by a bee, that she doesn’t want that. Usually whatever she’s screaming about wasn’t intended for her and she composes herself before clarifying what it is that she does want. These wishes range from apples and chocolate to brocolli and peanut butter and jelly or often just cheese. Her request tonight was peas with noodles. To her great luck– I was actually serving peas with the Tapas but sadly for her –no noodles.

All seated in the kitchen, I took my first sip of red wine, and a bite of the baguette with garlic aioli. I topped it off with a bacon wrapped date. The lilacs were backlit by the sunshine spilling through the window and as Little Bean screeched about the sun being in her eyes, I closed mine and savored the flavors.

The girls entertained us at dinner with their abilities to bite circles into their deli meat and ingest ungodly amounts of peas. We recited lines from numerous kid’s books and switched between a cup with a top and a straw, a cup with no top and a bottle for drinking water. (Didn’t I say it was a special day from the beginning?) They talked about all they have planned for tomorrow: drawing on the ipad, a craft project, camping in the back yard, a walk in the deep dark woods, and a bike ride, they said.

Really it was an ordinary day, in an ordinary family in an extraordinary circumstance in the year 2020. And maybe that’s what made it so great. The fact that we can have an ordinary time– laugh and cry, learn some new skill, run around, taste the good food and wine–that we’re healthy, that we’re together–these things are not lost on me. It turns out that Day 40, because it was so very ordinary was full of things to be really thankful for.

Until tomorrow,


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