PAUSE is challenging New Yorkers collectively and individually. The hardest thing for me is the sudden disappearance of routines. To fill up my “schedule,” I quickly found a list of projects for myself. Most items on the list require long hours of labor and plenty of patience.
A few nights ago, after hours of gardening work—trimming yews to be exact, I cleaned up and was ready to make dinner. I noticed the Montepulciano d’Abruzzo, leftover from sauce-making, and poured myself a glass. Whether it was my dehydrated body crying out loud for liquid, or it was the low alcoholic content fooling me, I gulped down half of what’s in the glass in one breath. Then, I remembered that I hadn’t had much to eat all day, and I was starting to get a little tipsy.
Because of my work requires sharp awareness and precise execution, I have been a “social” drinker for years. Wine and liquor find their way into my kitchen as cooking ingredients. But I am not unfamiliar with the feeling of “under-the-influence.”
My knifework slowed down. My weary feet suddenly found rhythm as I dropped the ingredients into the saucepan. I was humming some unknown tunes and carrying on a monologue.
I wasn’t aware of the tension building up inside of me in the past weeks. I thought that I was managing things just fine. That was until I sensed a slight looseness in my attitude. I smiled and allowed myself to relax for the moment, nonetheless, with a sense of guilt.
I am among the most fortunate during this difficult time. I cannot fathom the struggles many others are experiencing. What I am capable of, as an individual, is so limited. . ..
