The View from the Floor
Goodness gracious me! What a time we find ourselves in. I am currently sitting at the Fox Den with a tin of shortbread cookies and a rapidly expanding waistline. As Christmas this year is scheduled to be celebrated online, my Aunt sent these delicious holiday treats from the Island by post. The other night I promised myself I would only eat one, and then I woke up the next morning covered in crumbs.
It has been sometime since we last sat down together. I hope these words find you and your family safe and well during this challenging time. Every night, I step into the back lane, look up at my favourite streetlight, and pray to Meryl for the health and convalescence of this world. Then, I say “hello” to each one of my skunk friends before retreating to the Fox Den from a gaze of raccoons.
Regarding mental and physical health, like this pandemic, the last few months have been characterized by a series of highs and lows. For me, October was a peak month. After recovering from a series of illnesses (not COVID-related) that turned a feverish August into a sober September, my thermometer was flashing green, my hands were washed, and I was ready to go. Inspired by the return of my fall wardrobe, I practiced physical distancing dressed in some of the sharpest mask and blazer combinations you have ever seen.
While Vancouver featured a truly spectacular fall this year, it felt as if life had returned to a new normal for a hot minute. Business at the restaurant was steady and the Boston Terrier CLARK and I returned to our weekly dog-walking dates. Climbing mountains together, the two of us reveled at the beauty of bright red, orange, and yellow leaves exploding like fireworks into the sky. Feeling more rugged and fox then ever, I even managed to make some head way on the writing front.
One afternoon, I sailed down to Staples to print the first draft of “Rugged Fox: The Book.” 339 pages and one hit of sanitizer later, I treated myself to a new pack of pens before returning home to start editing. The goal was quite simple really. Take 140,000 words of my life story, chop it down to a cool 70-thou (the length of Bridget Jones’s Diary), get published, become a New York Times bestseller, marry an attractive husband, drink nicer wine, do something good for the world, die.
“Inspired by the return of my fall wardrobe, I practiced physical distancing dressed in some of the sharpest mask and blazer combinations you have ever seen.”
It was full steam ahead until the last week of October. As if Halloween was not scary enough, this one was particularly terrifying. As the second wave fast approached, case counts surged and death tolls climbed, the sky turned from a cerulean blue to an ominous charcoal grey. On Saturday October 31st, underneath the glow of a Blue Moon, diners anxiously packed the restaurant fearing our dining room would be shut again. In between partitions of Plexiglass, one could hear the faintest repetitions of words like lockdown, American election, and “this chicken is delicious.”
And then it was November, a valley. At the beginning of the month, I primed myself to be a pillar of strength and stability in the uncertain weeks to come. “Be Kind? Be Calm? Be Safe?” I said out loud, “No problem Dr. Bonnie Henry! I got this! Also, I love your necklaces.” Then, two days later, I was on the floor. Relapsing hard into a bottomless bottle of red wine, I lost cool, dropped calm, and let go of collected altogether. Abandoning self-care at the drop of a hat, I felt as if my apartment building had become surrounded by dementors. Giving in to fear, I crawled off the floor and into bed.
It is quite curious the impact isolation has on a human being. The mind can be just as comforting as the brain can be cruel. In the weeks that followed, I acted unlike myself. I became angry. I began to push people away even though they couldn’t get any farther! Yikes! I made the foolish mistake of searching for a sense of companionship with strange men on Grindr. WTF! The only results my search yielded was a series of NSFW photos and a handsome gentleman caller asking me if I liked to be punished. “NO!” I wrote back. “I LIKE WARM HUGS BUT NOT RIGHT NOW!”
This December, an unexpected week of sunshine on the Coast has brought with it a literal sensation of clarity and light. On the news, there is talk of not one vaccine, but several. Having returned to a vertical state, I am looking ahead to a more hopeful year to come. On a side note, these days, I am ruminating quite a bit on the meanings of “forgiveness” and “compassion.” As soon as it is safe to join each other at the dinner table, I look forward to discussing this with you further.
In the meantime, be safe, well and know that you if you do find yourself on the floor at one point, you are most certainly not alone.
