I had a hankering for egg salad. Who knows why. Maybe it’s because I thought it was the advent of spring, even though it was 50 degrees outside? Maybe because I was nostalgic for Sunday afternoons of my childhood?
I read the recipe carefully. “Boil a large pot of water and carefully lower the eggs into the water, making sure the shells don’t crack.” Well, goodness. the first two eggs into the pot of water cracked. Now what?
As I pulled the eggs out of the boiling water and doused them in ice water, I laughed at the two cracked eggs. One had a mustache and one had a toupee. And I couldn’t bring myself to crack them (more), because of the dynamic conversations that they were having. At some point, I’ll eat them. But for now, they’re great companions.
Her voice choked and I could tell she was crying. “I really thought you were going to come visit me today. I was waiting for you to come.”
My heart dropped. That was what I wanted, too. And I know how emotions spread, so I tried to remain calm as I explained, “Mom, I’m not allowed to come there anymore.”
“Because of the virus. They’re trying to keep everyone safe. Visitors aren’t allowed; they don’t want anyone bringing in germs.”
“Well, I’ll just leave.”
“You can’t do that, either, Mom. Everyone has to stay at home. I miss you so much, Mom.”
“Well, how long will it be this way?”
And this is where I had to swallow the sobs that were rolling from my gut, through my chest, and stuck in my throat.
My voice trembled as I said, “I don’t know, Mom. It’s already been several weeks, it might be several more. It just depends on how long the virus lasts. They’re trying to keep everyone safe.”
“This is a very bad day.”