Temperatures are high in these parts, and the virus doesn’t care. I haven’t seen my parents in person since Christmas. My mother sent me a Portal that works like Facetime through Facebook Messenger. The screen props up on the counter in the kitchen. Every time Leo (20 months) comes over, he points to it and says “Pop!” That’s my dad. That’s how he knows them, through the Portal.
My father has not been big on social media, but in the last month, he’s posting almost daily reports, “Reports from an independent retirement home.” They have been on lockdown for two weeks and were finally released on Saturday (Covid tests negative) to go downstairs for meals again. Here is one of my dad’s posts.
What does one look forward to when you are in quarantine? It’s different I imagine for everyone. As days go by, the options diminish. It gets down to such things as the next nap, the next meal, the next unexpected package, even the mail. Then there’s TV, which ends up being a search for the never found good program. My solace is a good book, which often ends up being the next nap. And so the circle goes on and on. The challenge becomes the acknowledgment that where you are is where you are and you’d better adjust to it. Part of the adjustment is to occasionally posting my thoughts. I hope you don’t mind.
John Gibson
Dad doesn’t know it, but I’m collecting his posts. I started doing this thinking I’d make a found poem, but now I like the way they speak themselves, full of his unique voice.
Andy Schoenborn posted the #OpenWrite prompt on Monday’s Ethical ELA. (Click the link to see the full prompt and read some amazing poetic responses.) Here is my poem draft:
Weather Report
The dog lies at my feet
on the cold floor because
Heat is unbearable at 91
in dog years, the age of Mac
in human years, when the virus
took him.Heat doesn’t care
if you are young or old
or if you have people
who love you. I see my parents
through a screen.
Their weather changes daily
with temperature checks, sticks up the nose.
(It was reported that my dad yelled from the pain.)
Funny
if we didn’t care so much
about isolation, the comfort
of a friend to eat ice cream with.Hurricanes come in late summer
when we’ve let our guard down,
when masks fall to our chins,
when we just want to hug
because another person, human,
grandmother, friend has died.The weather channel
Margaret Simon, draft
broadcasts
24 hours
a map covered in red.
Reflections on the Teche 
I love your father’s update. I, too, see something poetic in there. No doubt the collection will be fascinating. And I like the way that you use the weather to get at the expected/unexpected and the cyclical feeling of now. These lines, in particular, resonated with me:
Heat doesn’t care
if you are young or old
or if you have people
who love you.
I really love this post – everything about it. I love how you published your dad’s words and the things he said, especially the part about the tv and the book becoming the next nap. The “hope you don’t mind” is also so sweet and speaks to his character. I also loved your poem, in particular the line about ice cream and the ending with the map. Thank you very much for sharing.
I was moved by both of your posts and agree that your dads words are golden! You are so very blessed to still have around even if from afar!
Thank you for sharing your father’s descriptive and poignant post. Yes, save them. Your poem is so moving, describing daily life for many today.
Saddest line: I haven’t seen my parents in person since Christmas.
I like how technology and writing are helping all to get through. Thanks for sharing your dad’s writing and your lovely poem and photo, too.
My heart aches for not seeing your parents since Christmas – yet rejoices that the contact through the Portal is enough that Leo knows and recognizes them. Your father’s words ring deep and true – the search for solace, the adjustment – and I love that he’s turned to writing/posting as his means of coping. Your poem so encapsulates the “now” that you/we are experiencing. Different kinds of pain, so much red. Dear Charlie seeking relief on the cold floor. Extreme endurance… finding relief wherever, however we can.