Blinking out

Cherry blossoms in UW's
Upper Quad, in happier days (2018) 

"The lamps are going out all over Europe, we shall not see them lit again in our life-time."

--Sir Edward Grey (August 3, 1914)

I am quite used to living alone, with or without cats.  "Without" for this past year. 

It never bothers me.  I punctuate the week -- not always, but often -- with various lectures, film series, and other distractions.  But most of the hours, I'm happily engaged at home -- reading, going for long walks, emailing, blogging, listening to music, and at times, but not for a while, playing the piano.

All those options are open to me now.  And yet, really for the first time, I feel at loose ends.

Here in Washington state, as in many parts of the country, during the past few weeks we have seen the schools shut down, businesses close, people asked to stay at home unless "necessary" for them to be abroad.  I used to eat out for either breakfast or lunch each day; now sit-down restaurants are closed. I find now that having had one meal outside the house was an important landmark that gave structure to my day.  As one relative writes me, she finds that eating 21 meals a week at home is a deadening experience.

That daily meal out, while reading the paper or a book, was an oddly important event each day.  Similarly, attending church each Sunday gave structure to the week -- it helped remind me which day it was.  Church services have been canceled indefinitely for the first time in my life.  I find myself having to think a moment to recall whether it's Saturday or Sunday.

Running and walking are allowed, as long as you maintain six-foot distances from fellow pedestrians.  Aye, there's the rub.  No one's at school, most people aren't at work.  Like me, many are tired of TV and like to spend time out walking.  Popular walking routes are crowded; even back streets are unexpectedly full of walkers and runners.  We're not allowed to gather in parks.  Beaches are closed because they became too popular.  Yosemite and certain other National Parks have been closed.  Even mountain trails pose the grave threat of human proximity.

In Seattle, this is the time of year when the cherry blossoms bloom on campus, drawing crowds of both locals and tourists.  The University of Washington's Upper Quad is a primary magnet for cherry blossom lovers.  But this year, the magnet was too strong -- the crowds gathering were posing an obvious threat of contagion.  This morning, I discovered yellow tape blocking access -- the University itself had canceled classes weeks ago, of course -- to the entire Upper Quad.

Seeing that yellow tape felt like the final straw.

As in the British Foreign Secretary's time, the lamps seem to be going out all over America.  Unlike Sir Edward, I'm sure they will be re-lit within our lifetime.  But when?  Weeks?  Months?  Longer? 

No one knows.