Pompeii

But if you close your eyes
Does it almost feel like
Nothing changed at all?
How am I going to be an optimist about this?

“Good night Abbey.  Do you want to come upstairs to bed with me?” I asked.  I held open the baby gate, pointed to the cat, and then gestured up the stairs like Vanna White.

She just stared at me.

“Suit yourself old girl.”  Apparently, she’d met her snuggle quotient curled up around my cereal bowl, purring like a fiend, and there was no need to hit the hay at 3:00am, which is basically mid-day for cats.

As I took the first step, a stabbing pain shot through my hip.  Though it has been nearly five years since my car accident, my sacroiliac joint still sometimes lets out a cry for help.  This night it was repayment for the toxic combination of pregnancy hormones, reduced physical activity, and a massage therapist who is sanely sheltering in place.  Bugger.

I stumbled to bed in agony, telling myself “It will feel better after you’ve slept on it.”

I’m a terrible liar.

Thankfully, in Seattle, chiropractors are considered “essential.”  I called mine in a minor panic when I realized I couldn’t wipe my own butt without crying out in pain so loudly I cringed at how it must sound via my husband’s Zoom meeting.

“We’ll see you at 10:15,” the office manager said. 

I wept openly, and then I hobble-danced into the living room to announce “Mommy is leaving to go see Dr. Sushil.  Dad is going to watch you for a little while, and hopefully when I get back, I’ll be a more functional mommy.”

“OK,” said my Kindergartener, visibly relieved that something could be done to stop my moaning and reinstate me as his personal slave.  My earlier response of “Do I look like I can walk to the kitchen to fill your water cup?” had left a lasting impression.

The toddler, however, was bereft.  “Mommy go on adventure.  Mommy take Eilidh!”  When I left without her anyways, she wailed.  It had been nearly two months since she had left the house for anything other than chauffeuring other family members, and almost seven weeks since she had been in a car.

As I drove along the freeway, I struggled to remember which exit to take, which side of the freeway it was on, and which lane I should be in.  This is a destination I have been visiting regularly for six years.  What is often a 30-minute journey, through down-town Seattle and over the ship canal, took about 10 minutes.

Eilidh’s reaction, forgetting where I was going, and the lack of traffic are all LITTLE things, but combined they led to an underlying feeling that things are WRONG.  Sat at home on the couch, or safely ensconced in my yard, I can pretend that things are normal and I’m just home for a long weekend, or a staycation.  Out in the world, the little things shout, “The world has gone to hell in a handbasket, and you’ve just had your head in the sand.”

Then “Pompeii” came on the radio.  Indeed, if I close my eyes, or stay at home, I can almost “feel like nothing has changed at all.”  But out in the world I don’t know “How I’m going to be an optimist about this.”

For now, I’m going to stick with being an ostrich, at least so long as my sacroiliac joint allows.

Lyrics for “Pompeii” were written by Dan Smith. No relation.