[title subtitle=”WORDS Sarah Phillips Burger
IMAGE Monkey Business Images/Shutterstock”][/title]
Carrie blinked away a tear as the credits scrolled on the television, and then looked at her family asleep on the sectional around her. Her husband, Bryan, held a pillow against his chest, as his body slouched against the cushions, legs locked straight before him and crossed at the ankles. His head lolled to one side and with each exhale his lips parted making the faintest puffing sound.
Her fifteen-year-old, Madeline, slept on her side, her mahogany hair splayed on the cushion above her, her hand still clutched her cell phone which vibrated with every new notification. Her body was tightly curled under her favorite blanket, a pink quilt she received as a present when she turned five.
Caleb, her youngest, had sought out the warmth of his mother’s arms during the movie and was now next to her, his head on her lap. She ran her fingers through his fine, straight hair, his copper highlights barely visible in the soft light from the lamp on the table. His hair was long now, the locks covering his ears, and she vowed to cut it soon, or try to.
This was their third movie night this week. Tonight’s feature was The Pursuit of Happyness, and although she had already watched it a few times, she still felt a heavy pull of emotion at seeing the main character fight through so many hardships to give himself and his son a better life. Although the struggles that her family had faced recently were not as difficult (and for that she was grateful), it was still a scary and uncertain time for not only them, but for most families across the country.
It was February when she first saw large groups of people wearing masks on their faces, but that was on the nightly news and taking place so far away from her that it might as well have been on another planet entirely. It seemed that she had only blinked her eyes a few times and suddenly the virus was here. This thing that no one could see or touch, hear or smell was all anyone talked about.
Carrie watched the news closely with her husband as the number of positive tests grew, first in other states and then hers. With every day that passed, she felt the virus closing in, the fear gripping her muscles and ran through her thoughts as she tried to sleep at night. She saw worry on the faces of everyone she came into contact with, the creases between their brows like commas awaiting the end of a sentence that might never come.
It was during one of her Friday runs to Walmart to pick up food for the weekend that she first witnessed people purchasing large amounts of toilet paper. Then a few days later the schools closed down. Not only were her kids sent home with school work to be done online, but her husband was, too. Mr. Thompson, or “Mr. T.” as his students called him, now conducted sixth grade math and science to sixty students from their upstairs office.
Carrie sat next to Bryan as he logged in to Zoom for his weekly meeting and responded to his students’ young faces soon appearing all over the screen. “Hello, Juan! How are you doing today?”
“I’m good, Mr. T.” he answered with a giant grin.
One by one, Bryan greeted each child who squirmed or looked like they had just woken up. They all looked so young, their faces lit up by the screens of their Chromebooks. Bryan went over their assignments for the week, and how much time to spend on which app. He asked each what they had been up to. Most replied with, “Nothing.” Others stated that they helped their parents cook or looked after their younger siblings. Some went outside and played or drew on their sidewalks with chalk.
“One more thing before I let y’all go for today,” Bryan said. “I want each of you to give me one word to describe how you are feeling with everything that is going on. MaKayla, you start. What word would you use to describe how you feel?”
The little girl with short blonde bangs looked up, as if searching for the answer on her ceiling, and then responded with, “Scary.”
Anxious, sad, worried and scared were the majority of the children’s answers. Bryan ended the call by telling them all that he loved and missed them. “Call me if you need anything. No matter what, guys, okay?”
Carrie swallowed her own sadness as Bryan rubbed his hands on his face and stared at the empty computer screen. “So many of their parents have lost their jobs. So many of them are taking care of their brothers and sisters while their parents are at work.” He shook his head, “They are having to deal with so much right now.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
Bryan breathed in deep and pulled up his students’ information. “Some of them can’t pick up the free meals from the school because they live too far away to walk. Or take Jimmy, for instance, he is watching his twin sisters right now. He can’t leave them alone.”
Carrie rose from her chair, “Okay. Just get me a list of kids and addresses and I will take care of it. You might want to call them and let them know to look out for me. I will leave the food on their doorsteps for them.”
She left the office and went downstairs to find her daughter lying on the couch, her feet on the armrest, looking at her phone while she ate a Pop-Tart. Sitting on the floor in front of the television was Caleb, still in his pajamas, playing Roblox again, his mouth scrunched to the side as he concentrated on the game.
“Are you both done with your school work?” Carrie asked as she made her way to the kitchen for a glass of water.
“Yep” and “Uh-huh” were the answers she received.
“Good. Then you can both come help me.” On her way back upstairs, she tickled Madeline’s bare feet. “Put some shoes on. We’ve got deliveries to make.”
She set the glass of water on Bryan’s desk and took the paper from his hand, counting the number of meals she needed to get and glancing at the addresses for each child.
“Thank you for this,” Bryan said.
“My pleasure. Might as well take advantage of the cheap gas while we can,” she smiled down at him before kissing his forehead. “We’ll be back.”
Carrie grabbed her keys and purse. “You’re navigating,” she said as she handed the list to her daughter.
With the food loaded into the back seat with Caleb, they made their way to each address. After double-checking the amount of drop offs at each home, Caleb made his way up each front step, set down the bags of food and knocked on the door before walking away. His smile grew bigger with every thank you he received.
On their way home, Madeline’s fingers scrolled on her phone. Her blue fingernail stopped suddenly and she looked up. “I just noticed on the Nextdoor app that Mr. Butler from two doors down needs a mask. I could give him one that I made last week.”
“That sounds like a great idea, Maddie. Send him a message and let him know that you will leave one on his doorstep this afternoon. And keep an eye on that app and let me know if anything else gets posted that we can do, okay?”
“I liked doing this, Mom,” Caleb said from the back seat. In the rear-view mirror Carrie could see him smiling as he looked out the rolled down window, his hair blowing off his face.
This became their weekday routine over the next few weeks. In the evenings, Carrie and Bryan made a point to do things with the kids. Family night was every night. They worked on puzzles, played board games, watched movies and cooked together, trying new recipes that Madeline found on Pinterest. They filled their home with laughter, the scent of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and the music of Bill Withers on some nights, Queen on others.
The virus stripped her family of so many things, just as it had everyone else. But, as Carrie looked around at her family now, she noticed what remained and she couldn’t help but be grateful for what the virus had given her.
