A return to the Northeast and a strict 14 day quarantine
My first look at the north shore of Martha’s Vineyard in months.
After three months we finally made it home to our little house by the sea.
Our return home was an exhausting one. On Sunday, April 26 we had to say goodbye to our Atlanta family, and separate from our quarantine crew, deep hugs were given and tears were shed. Upon our departure we crafted handmade Mother’s Day cards with the kids, explored a couple new walking trails together, feasted on delicious homemade waffles, and soaked up as much family time in that Southern sun as we could. (In fact I’d like to think I’m responsible for bringing some of it back up North).
For the previous seven weeks we had been so fortunate to get oodles of extra quality time with our “Atlanta based crew” (remember flying?), it really was the silver lining to last a lifetime. The bonds we were able to nurture with our niece and nephew have been solidified and now we must continue to keep them strong through video chats, special deliveries and a whole lot of long distant love. Gavin began virtually teaching Jack guitar (they have matching ones!) to complement all those sport lessons we were able to give him while we were there. Fiona already started asking when we were coming over next, and now a new new normal begins for all of us.
Our drive home was an exhausting one. We spent Monday, April 27 driving straight back to Cape Cod, a 19 hour haul when you factor in bathroom breaks and stops to stretch your legs. Despite my fears, the rest areas along the way were clean, and we were diligent to limit our contact with every person and everything. We entered masked, and equipped with a paper towel in hand to protect us from touching any surfaces we couldn’t avoid. The service areas which typically bustle with tourists and commuters, were practically shuttered, with only bathrooms and the convenient store or coffee shop operating. Tables and chairs were taped up with signs informing people of safe COVID practices. It was eerie and apocalyptic. We noticed the presence of more masks as we headed further north, inching our way up route 95, and we could feel precautions tighten around us.
With the appearance of more masks came the appearance of thicker jackets and outerwear. People around us at the gas pumps and rest areas went from wearing shorts and t-shirts to sporting winter jackets and I was not happy about it, the northeast weather would be adding insult to injury. But it was late April and I was comforted knowing the summer was ahead of us. We finally arrived to my mothers house in Mashpee on Cape Cod around 2am. Gavin powered through the drive like a champ, and despite a small quarrel while navigating New York City and some road closures, it was smooth sailing.
It was an amazing feeling to pass over the Bourne bridge, but weird not knowing when we might pass back over it. It was even more incredible to get to reunite with my mom, and find some semblance of home as we unpacked into her house, which has come to be our second home. Sadly, she is preparing to move, which meant that we had to spend our first day back in Massachusetts sorting through our belongings that had been stored in our basement since our initial move back up north five years ago.
Tuesday we spent the entire day rummaging through our things and uncovered some nostalgic gems along the way. It was a daunting task but a necessary one, and what seemed like an unsurmountable task in the morning was actually accomplished far quicker than I ever could’ve imagined, a good remainder that life’s obstacles are only big for so long... Flipping through my old belongings, especially my photos, I was filled with a tremendous amount of gratitude for the amazing life I’ve already lived and the incredible people I’ve been able to share my life with. It was another welcomed reminder of how impermanent this chapter is and how it will only come to represent a small box of memories in my storage unit of life.
After successfully organizing our things we loaded them into another car (not the one loaded with three months of our road trip stuff of course), and drove them 90 minutes north to my father’s where they’ll take up space in his basement until we have adequate storage for them. We came close to donating boxes upon boxes of our books but alas we couldn’t bear it, each title representing a period of time in my life or special interest that I couldn’t part with. A girl can dream of having a library someday, so in the meantime they’ll stay carefully boxed awaiting their next unveiling.
Visiting with my dad and step mom was surreal, as we caught up behind masks, maintaining social distance. We had last seen them in late January right as we were embarking on our road trip, when the state of the world was oh, so different. It hurt my heart to not get to hug my father and I’m sure it hurt him even more. I just keep thinking about all of those deep hugs I can’t wait to give them once this storm passes… because I know it will, and those hugs will feel even better.
So finally after two days of driving, packing, unpacking and saying “hi” and “goodbye” to some of our closest family members, we drove aboard the ferry and set sail for Martha’s Vineyard. We planned around the weather, ensuring we could unpack without complication, having to move the entire contents of my SUV into our 425 square foot house. Despite the tremendous anxiety I had about returning home, especially given our small space, we have come to make the most of it, and are honestly happier than ever.
We’ve spent the last two weeks cleaning out every nook and cranny and confronting all of our things so we could reassess them and part with the unnecessary. After two weeks of going trough every single thing we own and removing so much physical clutter, I feel like a weight has been lifted. Rarely do I make the time to be home to tackle such things and I’m very much appreciating it.
Between work, house projects, social Zooms and walks around the neighborhood my life is still feeling quite full and I’m grateful for it. Today marks our last day in quarantine since arriving to Martha’s Vineyard, so while my days won’t change too much for the foreseeable future, I’m looking forward to social distance visit with friends, more access to our amazing fresh local food, and free reign of our Island’s incredible trail system and beaches. It’s truly a beautiful place to be.
This week’s Headlines: Path to Reopening Has U.S. States Confronting Regional Divides, The Biggest US University System is Moving Fall Classes Online, America’s Job Losses Might Be Slowing, NYC is Opening a Dozen Miles of Streets and Adding Bike Lanes, Fauci Tells Congress that States Face Serious Consequences if They Reopen Too Quickly, Baker Hopes to Launch Phase One of Massachusetts Reopening Plan ‘Around May 18’
Some feel good news: A parade honoring frontline workers on Martha’s Vineyard snaked around the Island to thank medical personnel, grocery store workers, and many others for their dedicated service during the COVID-19 pandemic.
Something that made me happy: I finally got Gavin in front of the camera cooking! I have been trying to get him to film cooking videos for months, years, and I know they’d be even more appreciated now with so many people cooking at home. Friends are constantly texting and calling him for tips so I thought it would be fun to film him trying to teach me to cook (also inspired by Amy Schumer’s new show on the Food Network where her private chef husband tries to teach her how to cook). So we did it! It was fun, educational and hopefully entertaining. We start with a tutorial on Tikka Spiced Chicken, and plan to film one video a week!
Something that made me sad: Hearing that my old friend Sam’s stepfather had been sick with the virus, but made an amazing recovery! Sam is a dear old friend and I know how strong her bond is with her stepdad and and my heart was breaking for her. I’m soooo happy to hear he is doing well!
What I’m watching: We just finished Waco the dramatized exploration of the 51-day 1993 standoff between the FBI, ATF and David Koresh's religious faction, the Branch Davidians, in Waco, Texas, that culminated in a fatal fire. I can vividly remember being glued to the television at my aunt’s house in Hopkinton on Marathon Monday instead of celebrating as usual. It was an extremely sad story and a lot of details I had forgotten over the years(who knows the real truth), but it was a worthwhile watch. We also stumbled upon two Rebel Wilson comedies that have provided some much needed comic relief, Isn’t It Romantic and The Hustle–both absolutely ridiculous but thoroughly entertaining.