Last week as we prepared one of our final, self-isolating dinners at home in Toronto, Philippe scrolled through his emails. A dinner dance at a golf club? I nearly broke into hives. I put down my paring knife. Was he? The pandemic has turned me into a hermit. The world is in the middle of the biggest social and economic upheaval in modern history, and the rule has been to keep your distance. As I learned these ropes in Toronto, my version of living on the edge became a socially distanced, BYO cocktail in our garden, with me providing the Lysol wipes.
Writers can thrive in solitude and often have enough slow-burn projects to last a decade. Yoko, the miniature poodle, was confused by our continual presence and, not so oddly, very okay with our luggage remaining locked in the hallway closet. Philippe has been our troublemaker.
To occupy himself during our months of social distancing, he walked hundreds of kilometers and put together thousands of puzzle pieces. At the onset of the pandemic, we mourned the loss of Antibes, our habitual summer home for 15 years. Friends from Antibes sent photos of our summer home, Bellevue, its red roofing tiles glowing in the sunshine as the pink lauriers bloomed with unusual splendor. These folks kept us apprised of the local situation as the pandemic played out. It had started as a trickle.
Shortly afterward, the whole country had shut down. Leaving your residence required a printed and self-signed attestation that disclosed your name, date and place of birth naturellement , home address, exact time of leaving your home, and reason for being out.
Except for essential work, medical appointments, and the like, you had a daily hour and a kilometer to play with. Policing was strict at the start, at least , and the fines were steep. A black cat, we heard, had meanwhile moved into our garden. And then โ ready or not โ the world opened up a bit. As I fluttered between excitement and anxiety over our delayed return to Antibes this season, a wise Toronto friend reminded me: Travelling in the middle of a pandemic is a privilege.
