Scared New World

[The Chief Dreamer]

by Shuba Subramaniam

A peek behind my scarf at living in the San Francisco Bay Area.

I donned a pair of gloves, a hat, and a scarf. I'm not a fashionista. I just live in the age of COVID-19 and I need to run errands. My husband and I use scarves to mask our noses and mouths. He was shamed by the fashionable masks that people had on. "Look, everyone is wearing a mask. Why can't you buy some?"

My Amazon order that I paid for last week (April 11) is due in May. I hear that some drugstores are selling masks. Maybe I'll check them out tomorrow.
I ordered groceries from the Indian store on April 12 and we were eagerly awaiting the goods to be delivered on Apr 21. Only after a no show, I checked the delivery site. They posted an update that our order number was scheduled for May 1st week. Their online log in is down and of course they aren't answering the phone. Apparently, we must keep checking their website for the "current" status.
So, we were forced to hit the shops.

Shopping at the supermarket is like a weird game of musical chairs without the chairs. If you enter an aisle, the person browsing the shelves there walks the other way – or you do.Everyone tries, but it's almost impossible to maintain the six-foot distance at all times. When you walk out of the store, there are customers who walk in and it's just like it used to be – you are close, your carts touch, but the only difference is that now you scoot away.
The shops have a board outside announcing what's in stock and what's out. Eggs and milk are in this week. Toilet paper and hand sanitizer is always out.

A teen wanted to show off. So, she coughed. People either stared or scuttled away. Her friends giggled.

I used the wet wipes to clean the cart. My gloves were sticky and wet.
My husband wasn't wearing gloves. His plan was to use the hand sanitizer and let me do the shopping anyways.
We spotted avocados in the store. My husband immediately grabbed a bag. Duh! he hasn't lost the instinct.

After gingerly picking only essential groceries, we headed back to the car. I touched the door, got in, and touched the steering wheel – all without removing my gloves. I haven't lost the instinct. Now, what do you sanitize?

The neighborhood app Nextdoor is a warm and fuzzy way to connect with neighbors and see what's going on. Except when they fight about religion or politics.
But, it's mostly good. Like the guy at the Starbucks drive-through who paid for the car behind him. This set a chain reaction that was only broken when there were no more cars. People in the fast-food drive-throughs are paying for the car behind them.
In Iowa, a woman is sewing masks and hanging them on a 'giving' tree for anyone to take. Even in my neighborhood, a lady is sewing masks for those in need.
Be ye kind!

We watch the news to figure out which state will reopen businesses. My husband eagerly hopes to drive to Las Vegas.
My teen daughter and her friends catch up over Facetime. They talk about their dreams – how they'd spend summer catching up, go to the beach, or what they'd do if they weren't hunkering down. They believe that the future generation will be writing history essays about this COVID-19 crisis. But, that's tomorrow.

And like Scarlett O'Hara said, "tomorrow is another day!"