Friday, my job ended due to Coronavirus school closures and I just wanted to do something normal. So at dusk, hubby and I took our Starbucks gift card, mancala game board and marbles and went to get coffee. We thought sitting outside in the open air would be relatively safe.
The young girl at the counter cheerily took our vanilla and green tea latte orders. Reflecting on my own job cut, I asked her if her work hours were affected by the epidemic's restrictions. She said not yet, but there was chatter about closing indoor seating and offering drive-through ordering only. Was she worried about pay loss? She said that Starbucks would give them catastrophic compensation. I thought, Wouldn't that be nice if the school district did that for their hourly employees?
The sunset did not disappoint, nor did the board game and conversation in the balmy spring air.
It was the last coffee.
Monday night. March 16th, most Starbucks stores closed their indoor seating. We discovered that while in Orlando for our son's engagement dinner. Arriving hours early for the party, we went to two different Starbucks in search of an afternoon pick-me-up. The first store showed chairs stacked on tables through the windows. The second was open for grab-and-go only, the blue- haired millennial baristas not so cheery to see virus-susceptible baby boomers. After the 3 hour trip I needed to use the restroom. "Sorry, for employees only, but try the Target down the street," they said. Feeling the heavy pall in the room, hubby didn't even order.
Barnes and Noble was open. There was this respectful camaraderie between the few there. Each knew the other needed to retreat to books during stressful times. Somewhere in the leafing through pages, and sampling the buffet of words there lay comfort and refuge during crisis. Silent book lovers sauntered slowly down aisles, reverent and reflective in this sanctuary of thought.
Nestling down into overstuffed chairs, I sipped coffee and read The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning (döstädning), and Tim studied the Hebrew word for "wait" as in "wait on the Lord." The diffused spring sunlight bathed us through the window. Naps quickly followed. A masked Asian girl sat nearby. At 6:45, the store announced its closing and we headed out to the restaurant.
The last Barnes and Noble hangout?
Fearing restaurants would heed President Trump's urging to close Monday at 5 pm, we made sure ahead of time that Don Julio's would stay open for the surprise engagement party. In twos and threes, friends of our son and future daughter-in-law filtered in. Balloons, menus and gifts adorned the three long tables. Our well-intentioned elbow and toe taps, air hugs and knuckle punches were quickly abandoned and replaced with bear hugs and handshakes. Hand sanitizer sat like another condiment alongside salsa bottles and salt and pepper shakers. I ordered the best frosty margarita - green for St Patrick's Day--and it worked its magic. When the newly engaged couple entered the restaurant, shouts and applause erupted, reverberating joy in every heart.
And perhaps the final fajita. Restaurant workers joked they stayed open for us. It will be 8-10 weeks until the virus crests and subsides if it follows China and South Korea's pattern.
Until them we hunker, hole up, self-quarantine, miss work and social events.
I couldn't have imagined a more meaningful last supper to commence isolation.
It was the last margarita.
And perhaps the final fajita. Restaurant workers joked they stayed open for us. It will be 8-10 weeks until the virus crests and subsides if it follows China and South Korea's pattern.
Until them we hunker, hole up, self-quarantine, miss work and social events.
I couldn't have imagined a more meaningful last supper to commence isolation.
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