Full-blown Weltschmerzen

I had barely laced up my shoes for a walk-run when Nu texted to say there was a deer in the yard and "they look like they're injured." I think I smiled that the 12-year-old was generously using their own preferred neutral pronoun "they" instead of "it" to refer to the deer. Anyway, I climbed back upstairs, and we looked at Nu's deer through the rumpus room doors. 

The poor thing was badly hurt--way more than I expected. Both back legs were bloody and one leg had no hoof, just bone peeking through. It was surprising how they didn't look like they were in pain--actually they seemed very calm and unafraid, although they left when Nu tried to give them some blueberries. 

We called The Humane Society who said they weren't licensed for wildlife and told us to call the non-emergency police line where no one picked up. Nu and I texted friends down the street to be on the lookout. Nu said as we both started to cry that the deer would probably die from the injury or get euthanized, but there ought to be treats and kindness in the meantime.

The thing that really gets me though was how the deer looked at us--unmistakeable eye-contact through the glass doors from 15-feet away. A bit pleading, like--can you help me? I had to go cry in the shower for a while. We didn't know how to help.

Incidentally, that's exactly how I felt when my cousin shared this video (it has English subtitles) about the plight of the migrant laborers in India yesterday on the cousin groupchat. I kind of went off the deep end so she called to check on me and panicked when she couldn't reach me (because I was in the shower crying yesterday too).

What's the News?

I feel more like Scout than Nu today.

Lots to tell.

But it'll have to wait until tomorrow, because today's been a bit much.

NYC from a Distance

New York looks strange and empty--at least in Big A's picture. He's scheduled to work at New York Presbyterian and stay at the (Leona) Helmsley Medical Tower, which I keep calling "the Cruella DeVille hotel" in my head.

He just finished reading Atticus Lish's Preparation for the Next Life, which I read when it came out (2014) and loved and recommended. I wouldn't say it to him because of the way it ends, but something about two people from vastly different places in the world falling in love in New York resonated with aspects of our own story...

Countdown and Cope

People have been asking me how I am, and I have to say--I'm great!  I dreaded the countdown to Big A's departure, but now I get to countdown to his return from NYC!

I'm booked so solid today, I doubt I'll even have to time to miss him. Work meetings to discuss campus contingencies, a panel presentation on social justice in my colleague's class on pandemics, a hike with L, and book discussion with the 'Food for Thought' people. Then dinner prep and dinner with the kids.

From yesterday's picture, it would seem coping involves midday Margaritas, all the Oreos, and the last twenty pages of The Great Believers I saved so I could be anguished over something unrelated to saying goodbye to Big A.

Goodbye (photo-note)

"not gonna cry, not gonna cry, not gonna cry"

"love you, pups! love you"

Out and About

We were just coming back from our afternoon walk when we ran into R, T, and L--who  took this picture from across the street. I demurred when she brandished her phone, but she growled: "Just stand with your husband, Maya!" Big A and I are still chuckling about that hours later. I love L so much.

Big A has two flights booked for NYC tomorrow so he'll be able to get to his first shift on Friday even if one flight gets canceled. We've made so many contingency plans like this trying to manage all kinds of risk. I have to admit it all still feels pretty unreal. He'll leave first thing tomorrow.

Looking Up

Made some good progress clearing debris from the garden beds, dredged leaves from the pond, found two morels, and would have worked some more in the garden, but I stepped in something yucky (bad puppies!!) and temporarily lost my will to live.

But seriously--the hope of planting veggies fills me with hope. It signals things like: *happening in the future* and *moving forward* and I need that right now.

After all, the lockdown seems like an infinite present, where cancelations and uncertainties abound: no biennial August family reunion in Montana; Dear Evan Hansen tickets on hold for a year; no idea if classes will be online on in-person come fall...

At was inducted into the national history honor society, so we celebrated today as "History Day." I made him a timeline of all the places we've lived, and taught him how to make mango lassi; he picked a historical movie for the fam to watch--Philadelphia, which ties in nicely to what I'm reading--Rebecca Makkai's wonderful The Great Believers.