Here, in my leafy neighborhood, my days are busy. Everyone is fine and everyone is cautious. I hear from my sisters in Austin, about their children and their pets and gardens, their health. Not having a car, I can’t go for a drive just to see what’s going on in the city. She and I have seen each other a handful of times since lockdown, always at a distance and masked. Every time I step out the door or plan to make the doctor’s appointment I’ve put off three times, or think of a way to meet safely with my sister who lives just two miles away, I back out. And there is no end in sight, not right now. Half a year has passed since I moved to Dallas, nearly half a year in deep crisis. Days fly by, which seems odd when life is so restricted. I’m entering my fourth month of the coronavirus. But Houston is racking up the highest number of casualties, straining to the breaking point its world-renowned hospitals and medical centers. Dallas set new daily records, with a shocking 1,103 new cases. On the Fourth of July, Texas climbed over the 200,000 mark in total cases and recorded about 10,000 daily cases. Today Texas and Florida are the new hot zones of the pandemic. He drew the line at masks, though he has since changed his mind and ordered the wearing of masks outdoors. He limited large gatherings and asked people to stay at home voluntarily. With furor building, Abbott took half a step back and ordered bars to close and restaurants to scale back. Pressure was building from the medical community and other experts, state Democratic leaders, and from Latino and Black communities hardest hit by the virus. Then, the inevitable: Infection rates exploded in June, hospitalizations skyrocketed, the coronavirus curve spiked straight up.Ībbott had to do something. Memorial Day weekend came and people cut loose, partying in packed nightclubs and bars, casinos, swimming pools, lakes, and beaches. Bars and restaurants reopened with some restrictions retail stores, cinemas, hair salons, and gyms, just about everything, reopened for business. He did it against the cautious federal guidelines that other states, like New York, were following.
It was one of the quickest and most aggressive reopenings anywhere. On May 1, caving in under pressure from his party, industry and business, political interests, and his president, Abbott reopened the state. One of my favorite neighborhood bars has boarded up permanently. Beleaguered restaurants cannot stay afloat. Out in real life, the Texas economy has been feeling the pinch. Like millions of others in lockdown, fearing the collapse of life as we knew it, I’ve become an insomniac binge watcher.
Late in the evening, and into the wee hours, I am lost in Scandinavian noir, dramas from Spain, and British everything on Netflix and Prime Video. I spend ridiculous amounts of time sweeping and cleaning, chores I normally detest but which are even worse with the need to sanitize surfaces, doorknobs, grocery bags, mail, and Amazon packages. I have gained weight (like everyone I know). I wanted to say something but figured they would only think I was a censorious schoolmarm.įor months I’ve been living sofa to desk, writing, and cooking (I make bread pudding and pasta carbonara, a feat for me). Joggers whooshed by me, their mouths hanging open, spewing droplets. A few Sundays later, I went over to a popular trail nearby, but bikers, strollers, and small groups crowded the paths. One afternoon an older fellow walking his pooch crossed my path, smiled, and kept approaching, ignoring my stop signal. Those first days in lockdown, I walked blocks around me, carefully stepping away from oncoming strollers and joggers.
0 kommentar(er)
