Hitting the Road

Once again, I'm feeling guilty, as if I am doing something wrong. Unlike the UK or Europe, there are no clear cut directives besides 'don't gather' and 'wear masks' to stem the spread of covid. Tim and I have been living pretty solitary lives since this all began, but it seems kind of futile sometimes. I care for grandchildren and they lead far more social lives than we do. 'Needs must,' as Weaver would say, and I am a fan of her practical nature. So, I home schooled two boys and hoped for the best, and it was all well. 

Now it is the spring, and after an alarming jump in our number of positives last fall, we have declined once again, with the number of new cases in the single digits for weeks now. I putter around the house and apply for jobs, and long to see little Iris on the other side of the state. 

Iris is two years and 7 months old and it has been 7 months since I saw her last. In that time, she's begun potty training, and she's talking a blue streak, and she's graduated to a big girl's bed and she's begun a very careful gymnastics program for toddlers. Brittani has had both vaccinations, being a nurse. Dylan actually came down with covid some weeks ago. They have a sneaking suspicion that Iris had it as well, as she had a bit of a runny nose while Dylan was isolating between his guest bedroom and his office across the hall (he missed not one day of work, although he did have a worrisome weekend in that stretch of days.) 

So. Now that they have their antibodies, the question is: 'How safe is it for Grandma to visit?'

After some waffling conversation, we decided to plan a visit. I will be leaving tomorrow morning. I will drive the five and a half hours there without stopping, if it is possible. (Not going to wet my pants over this). Once there, I will remain there. Everything that I want to see is contained in the four walls of that house anyway. 

Dylan and Brittani will be having their first date night in months, going for dinner and staying over at a picturesque inn a half hour from their home. 

Grandma and Iris will be having a good time. I'm very excited over this. The car is loaded. I've got a dress up box for Iris, a fancy hat box filled with things like necklaces, bracelets, a tiara, a scepter, glamorous, glittery scarves, a tiny tea set. She can be a bunny, or a troll or a fairy or a princess or a unicorn. 

She's begun to love plants, and so I bought a showy gerbera daisy for her room and sun flower seeds for when they plant their garden. 

There's a bag of craft supplies for us to do together.  Grass heads to be made, books to be read, a paint resist activity (we're making her name with a flower dotting the second 'i'), and I've got everything to do an ice block activity. 

I'm overpreparing for this trip, because when a little girl is two years old, and has not seen many other people besides her mother and father for months now, a 'new' person walking in the front door might be a little unnerving, even if that new person is the 'ama' she videochats with. I have been gathering ideas and materials for a couple weeks now. 

All I have left to do is one last stint at the food pantry. I will come home and assemble a lasagna for Tim, so that he won't starve to death while I'm gone. (The man hates to prepare his own meals.) 

Tomorrow, he will get up at 4:45. I will pack his lunch. See him off at 5:35 and then finish my coffee. I'll get dressed, pack one last bag of my 'necessaries', and then I will hop in my car and leave for Blandon. 

We can't eliminate covid risks all together, but we can minimize them, and we've been mindful of the risks and addressed them. As excited as I am to go, still there is this nagging guilt about 'sneaking off'. 

I will catch up with you when I get back.