But my wife’s immune system was trashed by a
nasty bout with Lyme disease, and we realized
in the first days of the pandemic that we’d have
to take extra precautions. Immunocompromised
people and those aged 60 and older are
among those most at risk of serious illness
or death from COVID-19. It’s a harsh and
unforgiving demographic.
Until very recently, the best we could do since
early March was to pull down our masks and
make funny faces at the boys from the sidewalk
during furtive drive-bys past their home.
Anything more and we risked infecting or
becoming infected.
Love had brought us all closer, until love forced
us to stay apart.
We seldom saw each other until mid-June,
when both families quarantined specially for a
weekend reunion that could include hugs and
horseplay on the lawn and a sleepover with the
boys. I bought 3 1/2-year-old Parker a net, and
we walked to a nearby cove to catch minnows. I
shared a raspberry Popsicle with 1 1/2-year-old
Cedar, who finally said my name in a glorious
staccato burst: “Papa! Papa! Papa!”
We pushed both in the swing. Everyone giggled.
Our hearts were full. It was the face time we’d
ached for, and it was bliss — a brief respite from
a long and wrenching separation.
“I missed you, Papa,” Parker murmured that
evening as we snuggled together on the sofa to
watch cartoons.
But our grandchildren’s day care has finally
reopened, with masks and as much social
distancing as can reasonably be managed
with a roomful of wriggling preschoolers. Our