After dinner we lit a stick of incense and sat in the family room waiting for the moon to come up. I was teaching Lily how to cook simple things like stir fry and rice. We made a pasta dish using the last of the broccoli and bell pepper. I found a dealer on Amazon who sells packs of Nepalese incense and ordered six packs of 50 each. I counted out the number of beers I had left and decided Thursday I’d head back to the store. Dawn wanted me to wear a mask, which I did begrudgingly, but felt like a bank robber or terrorist. And then I heard the masks are kind of pointless unless you yourself are sick. Which none of us can verify really, so I guess everyone should be wearing masks. And my masks are N-95 which carries a level of guilt, but I had them in the garage pre-Corona. We were worried Dawn might have it because she was throwing up and had a headache for two days straight. So we isolated her in the master bedroom and brought her saltines and Gatorade. I had a talk with Lily about the scenario where both mom and dad get sick and someone has to assume control of the house, which would fall to Lily. Caring for the animals and her sister, going to the store for supplies, learning to cook rice. I timed the discussion on the walk back from the end of the road after wheeling the trash receptacles for Tuesday pickup. Dawn rebounded, her appetite back, and finished the stir fry Lily cooked, loaded with garlic, ginger, and jalapeño. I holed up in Dawn’s study with a mattress we reserve for company and keep in the garage propped by the door. I bookend the days now with coffee and wine, and Sunday the new Xbox came but we couldn’t figure out the controls and had to keep looking it up on the internet or calling Lily’s friends for help. They say tonight’s moon will be the biggest and brightest of the year. I think it’s tied to Easter somehow.

Categories: Memoir, microblogging, writing

Tags: creative nonfiction, journal writing, Memoir, pacific northwest, stream-of-consciousness, William Pearse writer