It’s been some time since I’ve come here to write. Perhaps this is because I spend my professional life online, capturing behind-the-scenes product logic and details from the trans-Atlantic mouths of my brilliant, code-filled colleagues and transforming it into digestible material for our clients. I absolutely love it. But when my work day ends, my WANT TO DO list looks something like this:

1. See my girl.
2. See my man.
3. See my dog.
4. Color. We have a family set of map pencils, crayons, and markers that get put to good use each late afternoon alongside some good tunes and drinks. This is our family apero.
5. Actually complete a full crossword puzzle (this is me dreaming – I get a puzzle in MAYBE once a month).
6. Read. Brene Brown’s Dare to Lead sits with a bookmark on page 47 next to a thin paperback in French that I grabbed months ago in town.
7. Get outside. Nature is constantly calling.
8. Soak in any sun that might find a way to shine through given that it’s been raining in Bretagne since October.
9. Prune my rose bushes. Machete off dead branches from my banana tree. Snip away flowers and weeds from our very Honey I Shrunk the Kids yard (we haven’t cut the grass since October).
10. Get in a full phone conversation with my mom and dad (that’s not interrupted by a certain 42-month old needing to ask “Maman, le requin mange quoi? Et le toucan?”).
11. NOT look at a screen.
12. NOT sit in front of a computer.

So with that, I’ve purposely distanced myself away from technology during my “me” time in a concerted effort to give space to those people and things that bring joy to my life. Yet, with our current COVID-19 situation, I need to give space to documenting what is quickly reshaping all of our routines.

Two weeks ago we met some friends at a movie theatre in Vannes. There’s always some kind of toddler-focused programming going on, and we love a good film (with popcorn – they sweeten it instead of adding butter here). It’s usually two short films followed by a slightly longer third one, and each one has their own respective artistry on display. Whether you’re nearly 4 or 40, the programming is thoughtful, and I appreciate how the theatre staff is involved with greeting the children, introducing the films, and handing out an activity pamphlet that keeps our child busy when we go to eat lunch afterwards.

Back to the movie: we noted in our conversation with friends that the COVID-19 situation was something to keep an eye on. But we were still out. The theatre was full of other families. Even in the rain, the street sidewalks were dotted with umbrellas. Our post-film creperie was packed as usual. A routine Saturday looked and felt like a routine Saturday.

The next day, the first COVID-19 cases in our area were announced. And a cap of 5,000 people was put into place for the max limit allowed in public assemblies. The buzz around COVID-19 was taking off. And though we weren’t still sure what this meant, we talked about it a lot with the initial conversation thread being something like this: WTH is really going on with COVID-19? It’s wrapped its wheels around the global media circuit and steamrolled forward, leaving environmental and social issues in the dust for now.

I’ve kept my ears open to information coming in from reliable sources amid an inundation of news. For me, this has included tracking what’s been happening at a local level via the Prefet du Morbihan. They’ve done a great job of harnessing social media to reach the community, posting a regular “point de situation” each day, and responding to questions from the public.

It’s also meant staying attentive to Italy and the situation which continues to unfold there because this story is the one that demonstrates what we could be facing in France. The key points that rest in my mind are:

• An aging population has the highest risk. And France has a large aging population.
• No matter how much infrastructure exists at present to support those who are ill, there is not enough infrastructure to meet the needs when the young and healthy fall ill alongside the elderly and anyone with a compromised immune system. ALL AT THE SAME TIME. There simply will not be enough medical staff and ICU beds and specialized equipment to meet these needs.

It’s these two points that sit heavy on my mind. I have been calm – and rational. We wash our hands. We live in a very small, rural village, so it is easier for us to distance ourselves from others. But I think about my neighbors in this community, one where every association is geared towards retirees because most people are retired. They are part of this aging population who will be most affected in the coming weeks days.

I went to the grocery store today a little after lunch time, and the parking lot was eerily empty. The first two rows closest to the entrance are usually packed. Today I probably counted 12-15 cars in the entire parking lot of six rows.

Inside the store, everyone was at least 60+ years old – and very much keeping to themselves. I wondered how many of them had to pep talk themselves into getting into their car to grab extra items today. I was humbled by the fact that the aisles were stocked with toilet paper and bottled water and all the things people in other areas/countries seem to be running towards (like the Best Buy big screens on Black Friday). One woman was in the yogurt aisle with her cloth handkerchief that she used to discreetly dab at her runny nose. I thought, the risk for her is everything – to be elderly and perhaps afflicted with a minor cold – but needing to come to the store. Who do you call to grab the basics when, well, you have no one to call?

That whole grocery store trip felt off. All of this feels off.

Fast forward to a few hours ago: all schools nation-wide are being closed in France as of Monday, March 16.

We’re in the heart of a pandemic.

I need to sleep on this to process what our dear France will become in they days, weeks ahead. And of course, my mind turns to the large-scale question of what will WE become? Will we check in on each other and act with patience and compassion? Or will the worst of us be on display – will we see a global state of “each human for themselves”?

For now, I look to nature. That beauty will be what saves us all right now. With the forecast finally showing multiple days of sun, we will retreat to the yard for more of maman’s wacky gardening habits – and mud pies with flower soup. We will retreat to the forest for a quick run in the early morning and late afternoon. We will retreat to the beach to search for shells at low tide and breathe in that fresh, cool Atlantic air that stirs the body into taking a deep afternoon nap. I have a feeling that we will all need as much rest as we can get to fuel us as we move forward.