This morning I was supposed to wake up in NYC, where I was going to visit dear friends and tape an interview for an American Experience documentary. That life feels so far away now that I can barely believe it was ever supposed to be mine.

Instead I’m spending hours trying to source food and basic necessities. I’ve inventoried everything we have, and I’m acutely aware of just how we are using each day. We’re managing, but I’m having to be careful and inventive. I’m trying to support local businesses. I’m giving thanks for our milkman.

I’m helping my daughter work out how to connect with her friends. I’m reading letters and posts from my own friends, which make me laugh and sometimes cry. I’m walking round and round my garden, scrubbing out last year’s pots, and admiring the Lenten roses, and plotting where to sow seeds later on. I’m washing my hands over and over again… and then washing them once more.

And I’m thinking again and again of all the people I treasure, all the people who are vulnerable to this, and all the people who are on the front lines.

You are all in my heart.

A Lenten rose in the garden this morning