THE WAIT

The view from our winter bunker in the Wells woods:  patches of snow on grey-green grass, naked maple tree branches rising towards a slate sky, hand-numbing cold that hints of an afternoon flurry. When fat-bellied bluebirds swoop in to nibble shelled sunflower seeds at the porch feeder, our day brightens.

Inside our bunker, Mr. Wonderful watches “The Five,” at 5, still wearing his Scotch plaid pajamas while I knit by the fire in my comfy black leggings and cranberry fleece. We’re beginning to grasp Tom Hanks’ friendship  with Wilson in “Cast Away.” Hour after hour….day after day …. we wait. 

“I just heard on television that they’re doing a great job with people getting the vaccine in West Virginia,” Mr. W happily hollers from his recliner. 

Now that’s good news if you live in Morgantown or Parkersburg. We’re in Maine.  And until we get vaccinated, we hope, pray, research the web and wait for an appointment. If that sounds familiar, my sympathies. If you’ve gotten the shot, I’m happy for you. We would like ours. Please.

But truthfully, even if we decided to go out for dinner, what’s open? Thanks to Covid and Old Man Maine Winter, CLOSED signs have shuttered the Maine Diner, the Village Tavern, Billy’s Chowder House (best lightly fried haddock anywhere!) and Alissons, our go-to spot for burgers.

I can’t even go to the bank for my complimentary grape lollipop.  Kennebunk Savings Bank emailed yesterday: “We were alerted of a possible COVID-19 exposure at our Main Street branch in Kennebunk. As a result the branch is closed.” The local libraries are open on limited hours. Churches offer only Zoom services. 

Several days ago we invited pals Anne and Elliott for fireside drinks. Hadn’t seen our friends personally in a month but we felt safe because we’ve all been careful, wearing masks, watching “The Five,” you know the drill. Then Anne called. “We have to cancel. I might have been exposed. I was wearing a mask, so was she, but she just tested positive.”  

This is not unique to Maine. A friend on the east coast of Florida emailed, “I’m waiting too. It’s impossible to even get an appointment. Can’t talk to a person. No plan on rollout of program — all hit or miss.”  

Another friend from the west coast of Florida called and told me she’s driving from her home in Naples all the way to a supermarket north of Orlando to get her shot next week. “My daughter in Connecticut scoured the web and was able to find this appointment. A little crazy, no?”

I have faith we will get our shots. (Mr. W?  He’s getting twitchy.) But when? So I keep reminding him day after day of this anonymous, but apt, quote:

“Patience is the calm acceptance that things can happen in a different order than the one you have in your mind.” For sure.