Absence
I came back to Salt Lake City about four weeks ago for the first time since October. It was clear that the vaccine rollout in California was going to be slow, given there are about 40 million people there—over ten times Utah’s population. This is the state of my primary residence, after all, so I came back to get my shots.
Walking into our place after so many months was strange; this absence was about seven times longer than I’ve ever been away from any home of mine. We’ve had a house sitter coming and going, but the wood floors crackled under my feet from not being walked on regularly. The disposal had jammed. I learned this is something that happens when you don’t run it for months on end. The space seemed enormous compared to the two small rooms (plus a galley kitchen and bathroom) we’ve been living in for the school year. So many different pieces of furniture to sit on!
I imagined I’d get so much writing done. Writers—you know how that goes. It took me awhile to remember how to be alone, but it wasn’t really about remembering how to be alone because this alone is different. All of my stretches of being in SLC without my husband in last couple of years involved coffee shops, movie theaters, lunch dates, poker nights, and sometimes church. And the library. So it was learning a new way to be alone.
I found my library card when cleaning up today and thought about not being in libraries for thirteen months (though I sure wear out my Libby app for ebook and audio from the library). I also found the key fob to a co-working space I’d just started with in January 2020, which closed by late spring.
Shot #1 went in shortly after I got to UT. I’ve seen exactly one friend here (twice), and the plumber who fixed the disposal. Tomorrow I’ll go for shot #2, then head back to CA to be with Gordon and Mr. Donut for the rest of the school year. Emotionally, this time has felt eternal, but in practical terms…honestly I have no idea what I’ve been doing for the last four weeks. Sometimes my life this past year has felt as unoccupied as our SLC place, the libraries, the poker table, the movie theaters, the coffee shops.
It’s strange to think about reoccupation. Like most of us, I’m going to have to re-learn how to be in the world, how to step into those long-absent places and reclaim and remember a more normal idea of the acceptable risks of being alive. I yelled at a driver today when she was looking at her phone while I was trying to cross the street. I didn’t survive a pandemic just so I could get hit by a car at the end of it! But, that’s also life in the world.
I talked to a neighbor who didn’t say in so many words that he wasn’t going to get vaccinated, but that felt like the gist of it. It’s easy for me to shake my head at people, be snarky on twitter, throw up my hands. But being face to face with a person with a critical thought process makes it harder to react with anything but neighborly friendliness. I don’t want to argue. We’re all out here taking calculated risks (and thoughtless ones), every day.
I’ve got my own fears when it comes to re-entering the absent places. I’d like to not get shot while grocery shopping, for example. I also wonder if I remember how to be a friend who hangs out and does stuff.
On the writing front, I should be able to share more about my forthcoming middle grade novel soon, and this week marked one year since Goodbye from Nowhere came out. That’s a bit bittersweet, as it felt almost as if it was not released at all. It’s not too late to pick up a hardcover (though you’ll probably have to special order if you don’t buy online) or the ebook, or the audio! I’m still wild about that cover.